Falling Towards Grace
by Noirreigne
Summary: Nicknamed Lucifer, Duke Charles Bass is content to live a life of sin until the fateful night he meets society darling, Lady Blair Waldorf.   She was everything he needed and he was everything she had sworn to avoid.   Victorian AU
1. Chapter 1

1862

Charles Bartholomew Bass, Duke of Alverstoke, Viscount Glenwood, Baron St. Clare leaned back in his throne-like chair, his long thin fingers stroking the ancient wooden arm. Letting his head fall against the deep purple cushioning, he observed the party around him, his lips twisting into the slightest bit of a smirk. The room was lit with hundreds of delicate gas light globes that hung from a crystal chandelier, illuminating even the darkest corners of the room. Several half-dressed women gyrated in front of him, their wispy garments trailing around their swaying figures. In various states of undress, men and women danced sensuously against each other, their bodies clinging to one another. Scattered around the room were card tables and roulette wheels surrounded by glassy-eyed gamblers. Judging from the various cries of dismay and jubilant shouts, fortunes were being lost and won with the turn of a card or the spin of the wheel. Several couples, their hands already fumbling with each other's clothes, were escaping up the magnificent staircase to the bedrooms above.

With jaded eyes, Chuck watched it all. There was nothing he hadn't seen before. All these people, his so-called friends and acquaintances, were here for one thing and one thing only – to indulge in every hedonistic behavior that polite Victorian society frowned on. By the end of the evening, every craving his guests had would be satisfied until they were all thoroughly debauched. Whether their vice be whoring, gambling, alcohol or opium, he provided them all. His parties had become legendary, damned by polite society and spoken of in whispers. He had even been given a nickname, Lucifer, almost as if to speak his true name was a sacrilege.

For Chuck, what had started out as a way to damn his father from beyond the grave had become a lifestyle. He observed, partaking when he chose, taking pleasure in the destruction of others. From his throne, he ruled the seedy side of society; the dark underbelly of nobility that the polite and respectable pretended did not exist. As Lady Eva sauntered towards him, her lips rouged, her dress pulled low over her breasts, he suddenly realized he was weary. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to retire to his study with a scotch and forget his loyal subjects. Yet it was his party, his house, and it was expected like clockwork that he would reign over this event until morning light streaked the sky. Since Lady Eva held a tumbler of scotch in her hand, he beckoned her closer, and she slowly approached, kneeling before him. Taking the glass from her, he calculated whether she was worth the bother of a quick lay. She was new to the scene and had only been sampled by him, but he was already bored with her and wished she would take up with one of the other gentleman or return to her family. Sensing she was about to be dismissed, she licked her lips, slowly leaning forward, her breasts spilling from her gown.

A discreet cough to Chuck's left had him quickly turning his head. Standing stiffly at his side was Arthur, his butler, valet and most valued servant. Arthur took care of all the preparations for his weekly parties, but once the festivities started he made sure to never be found. That his servant disapproved of his lifestyle was an understatement. Chuck was sure the elderly gentleman would have left him long ago if it weren't for the fact that he had been with him since he was a child. For a reason Chuck had never quite discerned, the man held some kind of affection for him. Because of that, he respected Arthur's wishes, always dismissing him before the festivities began.

"There's trouble, Your Grace," Arthur said primly, avoiding looking at the spectacle before him.

"If some fool has lost his fortune and is about to jump of the roof let him," he replied with a sigh. It wouldn't be the first time this had happened and, while he would prefer not to have a death on his hands, he had enough police in his pocket that he wouldn't be blamed.

"No, it isn't that."

"A duel, then? Well, tell them to carry on. Just remind them they are responsible for cleaning the blood out of the carpet."

"Your Grace." Arthur's tone was so uncharacteristically stern that Chuck turned his head in surprise. "There is a Lady here."

Chuck threw his head back and laughed. "Half the women here are titled ladies. You will have to be more specific."

"No, Your Grace. This is a…" Arthur paused, his voice reverent. "A real Lady."

For the first time in a long while, Chuck felt a brief flicker of interest. To have brought Arthur out of his retirement for the evening, the Lady must be very special indeed.

"Send her in," Chuck said with a wave of hand, preparing to be quite entertained by this situation. No doubt the woman was a reformer, intending to lead him away from his wicked ways.

"No, Your Grace." Arthur shook his head almost sorrowfully, as if he hated that he was unable to fulfill his master's request. "I have shown her into your study."

Chuck looked at his manservant in surprise. "My study?" His study was his refuge from the world. A place that he ensured was kept completely separate from the rest of his life.

Arthur inclined his head. "I didn't want to her to be seen waiting in the drawing room. This is no place for her."

Chuck slowly rose from his chair. He had no choice but to see the woman. Arthur wouldn't leave his side until he did, and Chuck still had enough respect for the elderly gentleman that he didn't want to further expose him to anymore of his lifestyle than he needed to.

The chatter in the room briefly paused as everyone waited to see what had caused their king to leave his chair. Lady Eva got off her knees and with a pout headed towards the gaming tables to wile away the time until Chuck came back. With a long stride and without a look back, Chuck left the room and headed to his study.

* * *

Lady Blair paced anxiously back and forth across the fine wool carpet, her bell-like skirts rustling around her ankles. She should have never come here. What on earth had she been thinking? With a sigh, she acknowledged she knew exactly why she had come. Serena. The name evoked some of her happiest memories and some of her worst, as well. Well, that was the thing about the two of them. They were as close as sisters and acted as such – loving each other one moment, furious the next.

Tired of pacing, she took a seat at the small table that the kind butler had laid out with tea. The heavy filigreed silver tea service was engraved with the Bass family crest: a coronet with matching snarling leopards on each side of it. She shivered as her gaze lingered on the leopards; they looked terrifying, their teeth sharp as points. The steaming teapot that should have given a sense of normalcy to the situation did anything but.

She couldn't believe what Serena had gotten herself involved in now. To come to Lucifer's abode with a gentleman, she must have been out of her mind. Blair knew she had always been a free spirit, doing as she pleased, but she had never expected her to act so rashly. To be seen here was akin to social suicide. She would be blackballed; the only opportunity left to her would be spinsterhood or the life of a whore. Blair had no idea how on earth she was going to get her out of here with both their reputations intact, but she was willing to do anything to keep her friend from losing her virginity in Lucifer's den.

As she heard footsteps approach she hastily rose from her seat, her heart wildly thrumming in her ears. She was about to meet the King of Darkness, Charles Bass, and she was terrified. As he stepped into the room, she forced her eyes from the floor, thrusting her chin up. She wasn't sure what she expected, a three horned devil, or maybe Satan himself, but it wasn't this. Standing in front of her was one of the most attractive men she had ever seen. His thick dark hair was brushed back from his temples, his face looking as if had been carved from smooth marble. His body was long and lean in his perfectly tailored evening clothes. The only thing that kept him from being as tempting as the devil was the sneer on his lips and the look of boredom and dissipation in his eyes.

Chuck stood at the threshold of his office, watching with fascination the exquisite creature that, instead of attempting to seduce him or cringing in fear, boldly assessed him. She wasn't conventionally pretty, but there was a strange unique beauty about her that called to him. Her skin was pale, luminescent in the candlelight, her eyes were large in her heart shaped face and her red plump lips tempted him as surely as the apple had tempted Eve. He felt himself instantly harden as his gaze swept over her thin, elegant figure, the swell of her breasts and the roundness of her hips. He wanted her, and he rarely wanted anyone.

Refusing to be cowed under his pointed gaze, Blair lifted her chin even higher. "It is considered rude in polite circles for a gentleman to stare at a lady so. I suspect since you are so rarely seen in society you must be unaware of the rules."

"But this is not polite society," Chuck drawled. "You have come unannounced and uninvited to a private residence. I wonder what your society friends would think to find you in Lucifer's Hell?"

"You say that as if you were proud of it, proud of your disgrace," she replied with a sniff.

"Perhaps I am. Anyone with a title or a fortune can be a member of your polite society, but it takes a talented individual to create a kingdom like mine," he answered smoothly, not in the least offended. "Maybe you are here to take a taste of the forbidden."

"I would rather die," Blair said coldly.

He took a step closer to her, and she could feel the room grow smaller. "Yet wouldn't it be such a lovely way to go?"

There was something dangerous, sensuous about the way he slowly encroached on her space. Mesmerized, she watched him move closer, feeling very much like a fly tempted by the silken beauty of the web. Breaking his gaze for the first time, she stepped away, feeling very unsure of herself.

"What is your name?" He murmured. His voice, thick and velvety, sent chills of pleasure down her spine.

"None of your business," she snapped, trying to regain control of the situation.

His lips curved into an amused smile. He hadn't had this much fun in ages. Arthur was right. This was a Lady.

Although that should have been obvious from her demure pale blue evening gown to the strand of pearls that rested around her slim throat. The question was why had she deigned to lower herself by entering his realm of sin. Young ladies of birth did not visit the homes of gentleman in the middle of the night, and they certainly never visited him.

"There must be something you want or you wouldn't be here," he mused. "Perhaps your are in search of a errant fiancé." For some reason he couldn't understand, the thought of her engaged bothered him. He didn't want her attached to anyone else, and if the gentleman were here, Chuck would ensure he was disgraced by publicizing his activities here. The resulting scandal would end her engagement.

"Certainly not. I would hope any man I chose would have the moral quality to never be seen here," she said hotly.

"Yet here you are," he said with a chuckle.

She was losing control of the situation, but she hadn't expected the devil to be this attractive or infuriating. She needed to remember her mission, her purpose.

Schooling her face into a polite mask, she sought to remember that she needed this man's help. "I need a favor," she forced out.

His eyes flickered for a moment. "So you need something from me. Surely you have heard by now I am not the type that aides widows and orphans.

She nodded grimly. "I realize that. I wouldn't be here if the situation wasn't dire."

"So I gathered," he said dryly. "Surely you realize Lucifer does nothing for free. Even the devil takes his duewhen granting requests." He stepped closer to her and, reaching for her hand, lifted it to his mouth. "Are you prepared to sell your soul?"

His lips were a burning brand against her bare fingertips, and Blair's knees weakened under her. As he kissed one finger after another, she felt as if he was stealing her soul. Practically swooning, she looked at him with speechless wonder as he turned her hand around to kiss the tender skin of her palm.

Abruptly, Chuck released her hand and Blair looked at him in confusion. With his kisses she had forgotten where she was, who she was. Flushing in anger, she couldn't believe that she had let him manipulate her, forget her purpose.

"What is it you want?" Chuck asked brusquely.

Stiffening her spine, Blair drew herself up to her full height. "My friend is here. And I need you to find her and deliver her to me."

Chuck walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a scotch. "Have you considered that perhaps your friend wishes to be here?"

"She may think she wants to be here, but I know different," she said firmly. "She is a Lady, and this place is not meant for her."

Taking a slow sip of his scotch, Chuck regarded her through hooded eyes. "No, this place is for whores. Since she is here, maybe this is where she belongs. Maybe your friend is a whore."

Blair inhaled sharply and crossed the room in a flurry of movement, lifting her hand to strike him. He easily caught it, with a deep chuckle. His large hand encircled her small wrist and his grip, while firm, caused her no pain as he gently lowered her arm to her side.

"I didn't realize games of dominance and submission were your forte," he said with amusement. "There are many who enjoy this form of play."

Snatching her hand away from his, Blair flushed to the roots of her hair. She wasn't quite sure what he was alluding to, but she knew it wasn't something she wanted to know more about.

He took another step towards her, his hand reaching out to stroke the curve of her cheek, his fingertips light and caressing. "You are a true innocent, aren't you," he murmured. "Something very rare indeed."

Embarrassed, she swatted his hand away. "My friend?"

"Yes," he answered slowly. "Your friend, the whore. I had almost forgotten about her."

"She is not a whore!"

"So you say," he said with a shrug.

Blair took a deep calming breath. She couldn't afford to wait any longer. Who knew what trouble Serena may be in? "Please, can't you find her?"

"I suppose I could, but why should I?"

"Would because I asked nicely suffice as an inducement?" Although her voice was polite, the hint of steel was unmistakable.

"No," Chuck answered, just as politely. "I think one good act deserves another."

"What is it you want?" Blair asked, her voice barely trembling.

"I haven't decided," he replied simply. Taking a seat on the leather settee in front of the tea table, he patted the seat next to him. "Please do sit."

Blair wanted to argue, reply that she preferred to stand. That she was afraid being in such close proximity to him would surely taint her so-called innocence, but then she recalled that she needed his help desperately. Spreading her skirts primly, she sat next to him.

"Tell me of your friend. What is her name?"

"Serena."

"No last name?" He asked with a laugh.

"No last name. But I promise she will be easy to find. She will be one of the most beautiful women here," she replied with a pained sigh. "She looks like a fairy princess with long blonde hair and the most perfect features you could imagine, and the bluest eyes." Although Serena was her dearest friend in the world, her sister, Blair couldn't help the hint of jealously that crept into her voice.

Chuck cocked his head and regarded her oddly. "Sounds quite common to me."

For some reason, his answer was a balm to her soul and, before she could stop it, a smile of happiness crossed her face. For a moment she forgot where she was and whom she was with.

"I much prefer fiery brunettes who are bold enough to face Lucifer in his lair." He moved closer to her on the settee, his thigh brushing hers, and she imagined she could feel the heat of his body through her voluminous petticoats and silk evening gown.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Please, will you see to my friend?"

"For a price."

"I will gladly pay you whatever you wish."

Chuck laughed out loud. "How very naive of you to think that money motivates me in the least."

Instead of cowering like she wanted to do, she caught his gaze without flinching. "What is it you want?" To her surprise, rather then the lecherous look she expected, he looked at her almost longingly.

"A taste of your innocence," he whispered. "A kiss."

"A kiss?"

"Yes, a kiss for your friend. I think it is a fair bargain," he replied roughly.

Blair hesitated, her whole life she had been saving her first kiss for someone special. She had been through countless turns in moonlit gardens in her past two seasons without bestowing this gift on any of her suitors. To give him this now would forever ruin her dreams of the perfect kiss. Yet she couldn't imagine the repercussions if she didn't get Serena out of this hell now. Her gaze fell to his full sensuous lips, and her heart fluttered nervously in her chest. To her surprise she found there was a part of her that wanted this kiss, almost as if she had longed for it ever since they first met.

"Find Serena and you shall have your kiss," she answered weakly.

"Consider it done," he replied with a smirk, as if he guessed the effect he was having on her.

She could only breathe a sigh of relief as he left the room. Rising to stand in front of the roaring fireplace, Blair replayed the entire conversation in her head. She couldn't believe how she had reacted to Lucifer, or rather the Duke, Charles Bass. She had easily fallen for his charm, like he had placed some magnetic hold on her. She now understood how he was able to seduce so many young ladies with his wicked ways.

"My Lady?"

Blair turned around to see the kindly gentleman that she had spoken to earlier that evening. He had been so nice to her when she had coldly demanded that he fetch his master. In his hands, he carried a silver platter of steaming fresh croissants. The buttery smell of the pastries caused her stomach to growl and she suddenly realized she had missed dinner in her haste to rescue Serena.

"I thought you might enjoy some refreshments while you waited for your friend," he said with a bow as he stepped into the room.

"I really shouldn't—" she began, only to be interrupted

"It could be a while before your friend is found. There are countless rooms to be searched," Arthur said, color appearing on his wrinkled cheeks. "Besides, with everything you have been through, you look in need of sustenance."

"This is hardly a social call," Blair replied severely.

Arthur set his platter down next to the tea service. "Maybe not, but I find a spot of tea is generally helpful in all situations." Lifting the teapot up, he poured the steaming water through the strainer that held the tealeaves. "Cream or sugar?"

Blair opened her mouth to refuse, but instead she found herself answering him. "A little of both."

"I hope his Grace was respectful of you and your person?" Arthur said as he added cream and sugar to the tea, avoiding her eyes. "I can guarantee he was raised with impeccable manners."

She considered how best to answer. She tried not to think of how a simple kiss to her fingertips had become an act of eroticism. She finally came to the conclusion that he hadn't done anything she hadn't allowed. "Yes," she answered faintly.

Arthur nodded approvingly. "His Grace really isn't the naughty little boy he likes everyone to believe."

Blair's eyes widened with shock. The Duke's butler was senile if he thought that the Duke was anything but the son of Satan everyone thought he was.

"These silly parties. All this foolishness. His Grace will eventually outgrow it," he said with a smile, as if he was sharing a great confidence.

"You must realize that His Grace has the most dreadful reputation. He isn't received anywhere," she said, accepting the delicate teacup Arthur offered her.

"All his Grace needs is the proper motivation."

Staying silent, Blair sipped her tea.

""If I am not mistaken, you are Lady Blair, daughter of the Earl of Haverly."

"How did you know that?" She had been so careful to hide her identity, arriving in a hackney carriage and refusing to give her real name when she was announced.

"Forgive me, my Lady, but how could I not recognize Lady Blair Waldorf, one of London's reigning debutante's? Your picture appears daily in the Times Society column."

"I hadn't considered that." She set her teacup down carefully. "You will keep my secret?"

Arthur shot her an offended look as if she had offered him a grave insult. "Your Ladyship can trust me."

"Thank you," she said gratefully.

"You mentioned you were here to rescue your friend?" Arthur served up a croissant on one of the china plates, placing it on the small tea table just within Blair's reach.

Looking at the croissant longingly, she considered whether or not to give into her hunger. Before she could change her mind, she swept her skirts up and sat down on the leather settee.

"She has been very foolish," she replied as she cut of a small section of the hot buttered pasty. Taking a bite, she moaned at the delicious taste. "I just hope she can be found."

"Don't worry about that," Arthur clucked like a mother hen as he topped off her tea. "There is nothing that happens here that the Duke doesn't know about. She will be located."

Blair relaxed at his soothing tone and took another bite of her croissant.

"She must be a very good friend that you would so bravely come here," Arthur probed gently.

"She is more then that. She is a sister." She couldn't believe she was speaking so openly and honestly to a servant, but there was something about the elderly gentleman that put her at ease. "I would do anything for her, as you can see."

"I am assuming then that we are speaking of Lady Serena?"

"How did you know that?" Blair asked, setting down her fork.

"Even the servants read the gossip column. Your friendship with the lady is well documented."

"Is there nothing you don't know?" Blair asked wryly. Not expecting an answer she continued, "Then you will also realize how important it is that Lady Serena is found before anyone recognizes her."

"You can trust His Grace. He will do everything he can to make sure there is no scandal attached to Lady Serena," Arthur said confidently.

Blair practically choked on her tea. "Are we talking about the same Bass? If this was the Viscount, I would agree with you, but the Duke?"

Arthur gave her a sour look. "I see you are familiar with Master Jack."

"We move in the same social circles," she answered uncomfortably, suddenly feeling as if she had said the wrong thing.

Hearing footsteps on the marble floor outside the study, Blair rose abruptly, eagerly craning her head for the welcome sight of Serena. Instead of her friend she saw the Duke's smirking face and her chest welled with disappointment.

"I see you have taken to feeding our guest, Arthur," Chuck said with amusement. "You do realize that this could ruin my reputation for villainy."

"I trust Your Grace has solved the matter at hand satisfactorily?" Arthur asked, ignoring the Duke's comment.

"In a fashion," he replied, giving Arthur a dismissive wave.

Arthur gave Chuck a warning glare as he bowed and exited the room.

"You have found my friend?" Blair asked anxiously, stepping closer to Chuck.

"You mean Lady Serena van der Woodsen?" Chuck drawled.

Blair paled, her fingers fluttering to her necklace. "You know, then."

"I always knew, Lady Blair."

"What has happened to Lady Serena? If you have harmed one hair on her head, I will destroy you," she threatened.

"Do you really think there is anything left of my reputation you can destroy?" He chuckled.

Her eyes narrowed, the green flecks in them flashing. "While there may be nothing left of your reputation to ruin, I can guarantee I will find a way to hurt you."

Cocking his head to one side, he studied her. "I believe you would," he said, almost as if the idea surprised him.

"However, that won't be necessary, as I have located your friend."

Blair almost collapsed in relief. "Where is she? Why isn't she here?"

"I have sent her home."

"In your carriage? She will be ruined!" Rushing towards the door, as if she could stop the carriage before it left, she was surprised to feel Chuck reach out and grab her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

"I sent her home in an unmarked coach." Gently, he released her arm.

She stood still, slowly digesting the information. "She was unharmed?"

"She left as she came…completely untouched," Chuck replied. "The silly chit stood out like a sore thumb. She was the only guest that came masked."

Blair slowly turned towards Chuck. She couldn't believe her luck. Not only had Serena been found and sent home; she had worn a mask. There would be no bribes and no scandal to squash. For once, fortune had looked in her favor.

"Thank you, Your Grace, for your help in this matter."

Chuck gently caressed her cheek. "I believe I am owed a kiss."

Looking up into his dark eyes, she felt her breath catch in her throat. As the space between them narrowed, everything seemed to fall away. She could no longer hear the crackle of the fire or see the tea things left on the table. He was all that existed in that moment. Tilting her head up, she pursed her lips as if she had tasted something sour and closed her eyes, preparing herself for the worst.

He slowly chuckled, the sound rich and throaty. "It isn't as bad as all that."

With his thumb, he gently stroked her lips, tracing first the upper and then the lower one gently, until she relaxed under his touch. In that moment, his mouth was on hers.

Blair felt the touch of his lips, little tiny kisses that caused a delicious heat to spread through her body all the way to the tips of her toes. For the first time, she wondered if maybe she had been wrong to deny herself this pleasure all these years. As his tongue reached out to trace the seam of her mouth, she shivered and knew she had been a fool. She moved into him, her lips slowly parting as his kiss deepened. With feather-light, sweet little strokes, his tongue coaxed hers to respond. When at last she touched him, with the softest of touches, she heard him groan. Knowing she was affecting him as much as he affected her made her blood spark with fire. Sighing with delight, she leaned into him, her fingers reaching up to fist his evening coat.

She felt his lips leave her mouth and made a slight noise of protest, but then his mouth was raining down kisses over her cheeks, across her jawline. When his lips found the curve of her neck, she moaned softly and he responded, his teeth raking the sensitive skin as she arched in pleasure. She was succumbing to a desire that left her breathless, aching with need. It was only as his lips skimmed her collarbone, his hand cupping her already swelling breast that she recognized the danger she was in. She didn't want him to stop, couldn't tell him to stop. Flattening her palms against his chest, she pushed at him lightly, even as she wanted to lose herself in him. As if he knew her struggle, he pulled her closer to him, his arm tightening around her arm like a band of steel.

"Stop," she said breathlessly.

"You want me as much as I want you," he murmured.

She flushed shamefully as she recognized the painful truth of what he was saying. This time she shoved him away hard.

His eyes were as black as night as he advanced towards her. Turning around, she searched for a weapon, grabbing the first thing she saw.

"What are you going to do with that? Fork me to death?" He laughed throatily, the rich sound curling and uncurling her toes.

Blair held out the fork menacingly, feeling ridiculously foolish as she did so. "If I have to," she returned bravely.

Slowly, she backed all the way to the entrance of the study, all the while holding the fork in front of her. "I believe this concludes our arrangement."

"Yes, I believe it does."

For a moment she was puzzled as his face contorted with what looked like regret. As quickly as the expression appeared, it evaporated, and he was once more pouring a glass of scotch.

Before she had a chance to change her mind, she dropped the fork and ran down the corridor to her waiting carriage. He truly was the devil. The kiss they had shared had been the one she had always dreamed of; the one she had waited her whole life for. It had been perfect.

* * *

Standing outside Serena's bedroom door, Blair didn't even bother to knock before storming in.

"What on earth were you thinking?" She practically shrieked.

Serena slowly turned around from her vanity mirror to face her friend. "Blair? What are still doing up? I thought you would have retired by now."

"Don't play innocent miss with me, Serena Celia van der Woodsen. I know exactly where you have been this evening."

Flushing slightly, Serena set her hairbrush down. "I know. How did you find out?"

"I'm not stupid," she answered with a huff. "As soon as you pled a headache to keep from making an appearance at the Heatherton's, I knew something was amiss. You never get headaches. But it wasn't until I noticed Sir Baizen was also missing from the Heatherton's ball that I knew for sure. With all the whispering you two have been doing lately, I knew you were up to something."

"But how did you know I went to one of Lucifer's parties?"

"I had Vanya bribe Sir Baizen's staff," Blair said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "He must not pay them well because they were quite eager, for a fee, to divulge that they had seen a young blonde arrive and then depart with Sir Baizen for Lucifer's den."

"I didn't realize the servants had seen me. I did try to be careful." Serena mumbled.

Blair looked at Serena sternly. "Well you weren't careful enough. Besides you know that nothing can be hidden from servants. There isn't anything they don't see."

"Is there nothing that can be kept from you?"

The arch of one perfect brow was Blair's only response.

Serena laughed ruefully. "I suppose should thank you for my abrupt expulsion from Lucifer's party."

"I couldn't very well let you stay and ruin your reputation," Blair said with a sniff. "What I don't understand is what you were thinking in the first place?"

"I thought it would be fun to see what happened at one of those parties. Haven't you ever been curious to see what everyone whispers and warns us about?"

"Of course not," Blair replied hastily.

"I suppose you haven't," Serena said with a sigh. Walking over to Blair, she caught her gaze. "Don't you ever get tired of having to be so perfect all the time?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Blair said stiffly.

"Yes, you do. You are always so prim and proper. Never a hair out of place.

"I'm not you, S." There was a tightness in Blair's voice that brought a look of sadness to Serena's face.

"I know, but you've changed so much since your father's death that I worry about you. I know your mother expects you to be perfect, to make this great match with royalty, but her goals don't have to be yours."

"But they are. I want the Prince of my dreams and everything that comes with that. And what is wrong with wanting to be perfect?" Blair asked roughly.

"Nothing. Except one can never be perfect. Don't you see that, B?"

"Maybe, but I can come close." Blair's tone made it clear the subject was to be dropped.

Serena sighed, turning back to her vanity. "I suppose I should thank you for rescuing me. While I didn't get a chance to experience the party, I at least got a chance to meet Lucifer himself."

"You did?" Blair asked nonchalantly.

"Yes. The Duke of Alverstoke was nothing like I expected. Instead of attempting to seduce me, he gave me the most awful lecture," Serena said, wrinkling her nose distastefully.

Blair faked a disinterest she didn't in the least feel "Really?"

"Yes, he actually scolded me for my stupidity. But what was most interesting of all was that he told me I didn't deserve such a loyal friend as you, and that I should be ashamed for causing you to risk your reputation to save me."

Serena shot Blair a glance through the mirror. "In fact, he made a point of mentioning your name several times."

"I can't imagine why," Blair said, trying to force away the color that was already filling her cheeks.

"Did something happen between you two?"

Suddenly needing a distraction, Blair joined Serena at her vanity and picked up her hairbrush, running it through her friend's golden locks. "No. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"What exactly do you consider ordinary?" Serena asked suspiciously. When no answer was forthcoming, she abruptly turned around to face Blair. "Something happened between the two of you, didn't it? Don't bother to deny it, B!"

Blair cleared her throat. She wanted to lie, but like a dog with a bone, she knew Serena would not drop the subject until she had the truth. Her friend knew her too well. "I might have had to bargain for your release."

Serena paled. "You didn't have to—"

"No, not that," Blair said, shaking her head emphatically.

"I am really surprised he didn't want to sleep with you. I have heard virgins are highly prized." Serena furrowed her brow in puzzlement.

Shuddering, Blair set the hairbrush done. "It was nothing like that."

"Then what? I have to know."

If possible, Blair's cheeks burned even hotter. "A kiss," she mumbled under her breath.

"A what?"

"A kiss," Blair repeated loudly, her hand covering her mouth as soon as she said the words.

Serena's jaw fell open in shock. "Are you telling me the Duke of Alverstoke, Lucifer himself, bargained only a kiss for my freedom?"

"Yes." Blair's lashes lowered, her mouth softening into a smile as she remembered in exquisite detail the touch of his lips on hers.

"You gave him your first kiss?" Serena asked in awe.

Blair nodded.

"I'm sorry, B. I know you were saving your first kiss for your Prince. I hope it wasn't too terrible?"

"No. I am very much afraid it wasn't."

Serena studied Blair carefully, a grin forming on her face. "You enjoyed it."

"I will tell you this once, and then you must promise me that we will never speak of it again." Her tone was harsh.

"I promise," Serena replied breathlessly.

Blair peered at her reflection in the mirror. Surely, she should look different after such an intimate act? When his mouth had pressed against hers, she had known she would never be the same again. Something had changed and, like Sleeping Beauty, he had awoken something deep inside of her. "It was perfect."

"I am so happy for you! I can tell you mine was horrible. Edward had the most horrid fish lips, all cold and clammy." Serena's mouth curled in disgust. "I can say that, after that, most of my kisses have been very nice."

Shaking herself like she was waking from a dream, Blair pulled her gaze from the mirror. "We shall pretend this kiss never happened."

Serena looked at Blair warily. "Are you sure that is what you want?"

"Most certainly. It won't do for my first kiss to be from the most debauched libertine in the entire kingdom."

"So we're back to waiting for your Prince again?" Serena asked, rolling her eyes.

"Yes," Blair replied firmly. "Now if you don't mind, I would very much like to forget this night ever happened."

"So would I," Serena said with a grimace. "I don't think I have ever had such a severe lecture. "

Blair smiled and, holding out her arms, embraced Serena. "I am so very glad you are home safe."

Serena returned the hug. "Thank you for caring so much."

"Always," Blair replied. Leaving the warmth of Serena's arms, Blair headed to her room. As she crept up the stairs, she knew in the deep recesses of her heart that she would never, no matter how much she fought it, be able to forget this night.

* * *

It had been nearly a week, and Chuck had done nothing but think of her. The intoxicating smell of her skin; the taste of her lips, and the way her body pressed against his. For the first time, his parties left a bad taste in his mouth, and he had no desire to participate. He sat lifeless on his throne, as though he was made of stone. He abstained from sex as if he were a monk, causing his followers to mumble with misgiving. As beauty upon beauty was paraded in front of him, he saw only the exquisite brunette that had made his icy heart feel almost alive. Retiring to his study to once more drown out the vision of loveliness that continued to haunt him, he was startled to find Arthur waiting for him glass of scotch in hand.

As he seated himself at his desk, he noticed the Times still laid out, just as he had left it earlier that day. Only this time, instead of the paper being opened to the racing scores, it was folded to reveal the society column. His eyes eagerly scanned the section, finding her name. _Lady B looked as lovely as ever in green silk net and the famous Waldorf emeralds as she waltzed with Lord H twice. Will the lady finally give in and accept a proposal? _As he took in the news, he growled, his face darkening as it had every time he had read the piece that day. He tried not to think of her lovely face, of her sharing her kisses with another, but it was useless.

"I know what you are doing, Arthur," he said angrily.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Your Grace," Arthur replied calmly.

Chuck took a deep drink of his scotch. "The paper."

"Ah, yes. Are you finished with it? Shall I place it with the others?"

Slamming his fist on his desk, Chuck tried to force back the emotions that blinded him. "What others?"

"The ones you have been saving in the bottom drawer," Arthur replied innocently.

Knowing it was no use to deny it, Chuck made a noise of frustration. Ever since he had met Blair, he had saved every paper that was delivered, because they held her name. It was as if he could keep his memory of her alive with them, remind himself that she had been real. Bowing his head, he realized it was useless to continue fighting. She had won. He needed to see her again.

"Do you happen to know where Lady Blair will be tomorrow night?"

"I believe that she will be making an appearance at the Grenville's ball," Arthur answered.

"See to it that I have an invitation," Chuck said with a sigh of defeat.

"Yes, Your Grace," Arthur said happily.

* * *

Edited by nondescriptf and Tati.


	2. Chapter 2

The Grenville's Ball could be deemed a success. The choicest members of the haut ton were present, the ballroom was packed and the champagne was flowing. Even though all the components made for a perfect evening, Blair was bored and listless. She didn't even know what her suitor was talking about, and she didn't care. She wondered if she could convince her mother she was unwell so she could escape the ball and go home. Maybe she really was sick. She normally lived for these events.

Taking a look at the handsome men that surrounded her – anxious to please, dance with her, and do her bidding – she considered that perhaps she was too picky in her tastes. The truth was that she had received several proposals over the last two seasons, but she hadn't been interested and her mother had found all of them lacking. Since her heart had never been firmly engaged, Blair hadn't minded that her mother had declined the offers on her behalf. Eleanor would settle for nothing less than royalty, and Blair had decided she would accept her mother's choice. She was convinced her dreams of true love would only ever be realized in the arms of her future prince.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn't realize Lord Danbury had stopped speaking. It was then she noticed the silence. It had grown so quiet that she swore she could have heard a feather falling. Looking to her suitors, she searched for a clue to explain this bizarre happening. Noting their fixed stare towards the entrance of the ballroom, she craned her head to see over the top of the crowd.

It couldn't be. It had to be someone else. But it wasn't. There was no mistaking those hard dark eyes and the cruel smirk that curled his lips. It was him. For a moment, she forgot to breathe as she saw him advance proudly into the ballroom. The wealthy and powerful stepped aside for him, and he passed them without a glance. As he came closer and closer to her, her heart sped up until the blood was pounding in her ears. She had to be dreaming. That was it. Lucifer never left the hell he had created and he never came to society events. As he walked by, his gaze fell on her and, as he hesitated in his stride, she was sure he was about to stop.

When he passed by her, she breathed a sigh of relief. To her surprise, he approached Lady Melbourne. Like everyone else, she couldn't help but watch. The Lady was one of the Grand Dames of society. Over sixty years old, she had been a great beauty once. As it was, she had been married three times, outliving each of her husbands. She was a perfect dragon and there was nothing that escaped her eagle eye as she terrorized the young debutantes.

"Lady Melbourne," Chuck greeted with a bow.

The elderly lady paused for a long moment before answering. "So you have decided to take your rightful place in society at last," she cackled gleefully. "A good thing, if you ask me. Your uncle has grown quite uppity, thinking he is the sole representative for the Bass family."

"The Viscount seems to excel in that role," he said wryly.

Her eyes clouded over for a minute. "I remember when you were both young boys. The Viscount was just as pretentious then as he is now. One would have thought he was the heir." Her voice dripped with disdain.

A frown marred Chuck's brow. "Such is the plague of being a second son."

"When I used to visit your father, I always brought cherry cordials for you. Do you still love them?"

"I do, and I remember your visits fondly." Chuck's mouth relaxed into a slight smile. "My father always said you were one of the cleverest women he ever met. That you had a great head with figures."

Lady Melbourne nodded. "That was kind of him. Your father had a brilliant mind for business. Under his care, my investments doubled and tripled. I have heard you have inherited the same talent?"

"I have had some luck," Chuck replied with a careless shrug of his shoulders. To say he had some luck was an understatement. He had expanded the Bass estate to encompass railroads, coalmines, factories and hotels. There was hardly a business transaction in England that he didn't have a hand in. It had become a hobby of his, one he did not advertise.

"So tell me, Your Grace, what has caused you to leave your den?" She asked slyly. "I don't believe your goal this evening was to exchange conversation with an old lady."

"I see no old lady, only the beauty that used to tempt me with cherry cordials."

Spots of color appeared on her wrinkled cheeks. "You make me feel quite young again."

Chuck lifted her hand to his lips. "You will always be young to me."

"Such flattery. You must want something of great value from me."

"Only an introduction." His gaze drifted to Lady Blair. The lady was just as beautiful as he remembered. In her green silk gown, she glowed in the candlelight like a heavenly angel and, for the first time, he felt like he really was the devil. There was a purity, an innocence about her, that sang to his dark soul. He knew that if he truly cared about her, he would forget this foolish desire of his and leave her be. But he was Lucifer, and the devil always collected.

Lady Melbourne swatted his arm with her painted fan. "You are being quite noticeable in your intentions. You almost made the mistake of stopping to speak to the lady before coming to me. Thank heavens, you had the good sense to see me first."

Chuck tore his gaze from Blair. "I bow before your superior wisdom in such matters."

"You have made an interesting choice." Lady Melbourne studied the lady in question. "Lady Blair has been one of the reigning debutantes since her debut last year. She is known for her beauty, propriety and decorum. She is constantly held up as the perfect example all debutantes should aspire to. Your attentions to her will not be well received, especially by her mother. Lady Waldorf has groomed Lady Blair for nothing less then royalty. If I am not mistaken, I believe she is working towards an alliance with the Grimaldi family. Although I am not quite convinced the lady wishes for the same."

To his surprise, Chuck felt a sudden surge of kinship to the lady. He, better then anyone, knew what it was like to be forced into a role not of your choosing. His father's lectures, the constant comparisons to his Uncle Jack, still rang in his ears.

"Surely there can be no objection to just a dance?" He asked smoothly.

"I can see to an introduction. You will have to do the rest. I have a feeling I am going to quite relish the scene we are about to cause," she replied eagerly as she took Chuck's arm.

Even though the music had resumed, the dance floor was mostly empty. Society was too busy pretending they weren't watching the Duke while at the same time attempting to eavesdrop on every word he spoke.

Blair had tried to distract herself, even downing her glass of champagne in one nervous gulp. She was terrified that the Duke was even now spilling her secret to Lady Melbourne. If the Lady knew of her visit to the Duke's residence, she would ruin her and Serena, and take pleasure in doing so.

"Shall I fetch another glass of champagne for you?" One of her suitors asked.

She broke her rule of only ever having one glass at a ball and handed her glass to him to fill. As the Duke and Lady Melbourne left their place on the edge of the ballroom and started towards her, she felt her legs grow weak underneath her. Were they coming to expose her?

"Damnation," she swore under her breath. Her gloved hand went to her mouth in shock as the word slipped out. What was wrong with her? A lady never swore, even when in the most dire situations. For a panicked moment, she wondered if anyone had heard her.

As they stopped directly in front of her, she knew to her shame that at least the Duke had recognized her oath by the slow smile that spread across his lips, the way his eyes sparked in amusement. Thankfully, Lady Melbourne seemed to have missed her grave faux pas.

"Lady Blair, I have the great honor of presenting the Charles Bass, the Duke of Alverstoke. Your Grace, Lady Blair, daughter of the late Harold Waldorf, Earl of Haverly," Lady Melbourne said.

"Lady Blair." His voice was a silky growl as he swept her an elegant bow.

It was a nightmare of the worst kind. She had to be dreaming. As his burning gaze caught hers, she knew it was real. She was being officially presented to the most dissolute and dangerous man in Queen Victoria's entire kingdom.

"Lady Blair," Lady Melbourne reprimanded sharply.

It was then she realized she had forgotten her manners. She had neglected to curtsey. One always curtseyed when addressed by a gentleman of higher rank.

Ignoring her mistake, Chuck held out his gloved hand. "May I have the honor of a dance?"

"I don't dance," she answered faintly.

Lady Melbourne snorted.

She thought she would annoy him with her answer, but her refusal only caused his smile to widen more.

"I think I must insist on a dance. A punishment for your display of shockingly bad manners," he replied teasingly.

Blair couldn't believe that he had caused her to forget herself in his presence not once but twice. She didn't swear and she certainly didn't forget her manners. Never before in her life had she behaved so.

"The dance, Lady Blair."

She could feel the eyes of hundreds on her, hear the whispers and titters, and she was paralyzed.

To her surprise, Lord Danbury stepped forward. He was by far her youngest suitor. His golden hair gleamed in the candlelight, contrasting with his now reddening cheeks.

"The lady is not interested."

Chuck barely spared the gentleman a glance as he continued to hold out his hand for her.

"I don't think you understand." Lord Danbury's tone grew heated. "You are not welcome here."

"The Grenville family would disagree," Chuck replied with boredom. "Would you care to discuss it with them?"

As if he had gotten courage from Lord Danbury, Sir Roxbury spoke up, "You don't belong here. I am sure there are plenty of other women that would love to dance with you at one of your soirees.

Lady Melbourne flicked open her fan noisily, breaking the tension that was slowly building. "Have a care, Gentlemen. You forget whom you are dealing with."

For the first time, Chuck showed interest in the gentleman that surrounded Blair. "Your names, gentleman?"

Sir Roxbury, now suddenly nervous, ran his fingers through his ginger hair. "I can't imagine why that would be necessary."

"I find it very necessary," Chuck replied, his smile now tinged with malice.

Blair knew she had to step in. While the Duke lived the life of a recluse in the underworld he had created, she had no doubt he had the power to ruin any of these men. It was too late to avoid talk, but if she contained the situation, she might at least salvage the evening and prevent a scandal.

With a shaky breath, she placed her hand in his, and his fingers curled protectively around hers as he led her away from her entourage. Leading her to the dance floor, the other dancers stopped, parting to make way for them.

Wrapping his arm around her tiny waist, he led her into the dance. Their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly as he pulled her close to him, even closer than the six inches that was allowed. Feeling him so near, his body pressed so close to hers, Blair felt the room begin to spin. Closing her eyes, she focused on the steps of the dance, counting them off one by one. With everyone's eyes on her, she couldn't, wouldn't, embarrass herself by stumbling and mis-stepping.

"Open your eyes, Lady Blair," he murmured close to her ear. When she didn't respond, he continued, "Would you have everyone think being in my arms has left you swooning with passion?"

Her eyes flew open to find his gaze on her. "More likely they shall think I can't bear the disgrace of being seen dancing with you," she answered tautly.

The flicker of anger in his eyes, before they once more returned to dark pools of impenetrable stillness, had Blair realizing she was poking at a sleeping tiger. There was no telling what he was capable of when provoked, and she had much to lose. "Do you plan to ruin me?" She asked bluntly.

"If I wished to destroy you, I would have done so by now," he said, almost lazily. "Don't worry, your dirty little secret is safe with me. No one shall know of your visit."

Blair breathed a sigh of relief. "Then why are you here?"

"To see you."

An emotion she couldn't define curled through Blair's body like a potent wine, leaving her lightheaded. "You didn't need to come here and cause a scene to see me."

"Would you have been at home if I called? Would you have addressed me on the street if I greeted you?" He smiled sardonically at her silence.

"You have no one to blame for that but yourself," Blair replied hotly. "Your reputation makes it impossible for a Lady of good breeding to be seen with you."

"Isn't a Lady expected to help out those less fortunate than herself?"

"I don't think you are what is intended by less fortunate."

Chuck laughed and turned his gaze to the crowd that still stood watching them. "Half the people here, those you consider of good breeding, have attended at least one of my parties."

"But they don't make it a profession like you have."

"Maybe I want to change that," he said in a silky voice.

Blair studied him warily. "Why?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I fear for my immortal soul?"

"I don't believe you have one," she replied tartly. Watching his face transform in the candlelight into a cold and almost inhuman mask, she regretted her words.

"Maybe not," he answered coolly. "But then would you believe it is because of a kiss?"

Color bloomed on Blair's cheeks. "A kiss," she repeated faintly.

"Yes." Chuck eyes caught and held hers, his gaze intense. "Don't tell me it meant nothing to you. I know you felt it too."

"No," she barely breathed. "I felt nothing."

"Liar."

"It was just a kiss. Nothing special." Blair couldn't believe she was lying, but she didn't want him to know the truth. That the kiss had been her first, and she was quite sure no other kiss would ever measure up to this one. Because of that, for her own good, she needed to end their association and forget that the kiss had ever happened.

"I suppose you are basing this on the numerous kisses you have given and received?" Chuck taunted.

"Of course," Blair answered quickly – almost too quickly, she realized as he stared at her like a wolf that had scented blood.

"Do tell. Where did these kisses take place and with whom?"

"It's so hard to remember. There have been so many," she answered airily.

"So many you don't remember? So many you can longer tell them apart?"

Blair tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "Yes," she bit out. "So many, yours was of little consequence."

"I don't believe you," Chuck replied with a cruel smile.

"Why?" Blair retorted angrily. She couldn't believe what she was doing. Her whole existence was one based on propriety and decorum, and now he had her emotions so twisted in knots she was trying to convince him that she was some kind of loose woman.

Chuck leaned in close, his lips hovering over her ear like a lover's kiss. "Because if you had kissed everyone like you kissed me, you would have ended up flat on your back long ago."

Blair immediately stiffened in his arms and he responded by pulling her flush to him. Through the thin silk of her dress, the layers of crinoline, she swore she could feel every masculine inch of him. Her body throbbed; her flesh growing heated as their waltz transformed to a dance of sensuality.

"Even someone as depraved as I am can recognize innocence. You may be able to lie to yourself, Blair, but I know the truth," he murmured. "Remember that when you lay in your virginal bed, thinking of our kiss."

Looking into Chuck's smug face, Blair felt all the years of her mother's training in respectable and ladylike behavior give way to raw, unbridled emotion. "You are disgusting, and I hate you."

"Then why are you still holding my hand?"

Like a veil had been raised, Blair became once more aware of her surroundings. The tinkling sounds of the orchestra had ceased, Chuck's arm was no longer around her waist and the dance floor had emptied. They were alone amidst the glittering crowd.

Forcing her lips into a cold smile, Blair dropped a curtsy to Chuck. He bowed in return and when he offered her his arm, she took it. As he led her back to Lady Melbourne, she refused to even so much as glance at him.

"Such a pretty couple the two of you make," the old lady said cheerfully, with a mischievous look in the direction of Blair's suitors.

"I believe the next dance is mine, Lady Blair?" Lord Danbury said, looking down his nose at Chuck. He didn't bother to even wait for Chuck to relinquish Blair to Lady Melbourne before holding out his arm.

Blair wasn't sure whose dance it was, but she didn't care. She needed to get away from Chuck and the intense, fevered feelings he aroused in her. Eagerly she took Lord Danbury's arm and let him lead her back to the dance floor.

Satisfied they had done their duty in freeing Blair from Lucifer's evil grasp, her suitors gladly left Chuck to Lady Melbourne.

Lady Melbourne watched with interest as Chuck's gaze followed Blair. "The Lady is not unaffected by you."

"I know," Chuck answered with a small smile

"It won't be easy," she warned.

"Nothing worth having ever is." Presenting Lady Melbourne his most graceful bow, Chuck left the ballroom without a backward glance.

* * *

The fire burned merrily in the fireplace as Chuck leaned back in his leather chair. Sipping his scotch, he reflected pleasantly on the evening's events. While society's reception of his presence had been less than ideal, having Blair in his arms once more had redeemed the whole night. As he remembered the feel of her body pressed closely against his, the way she had boldly taunted him with her lies and her exotic gardenia scent, he was forced to shift uncomfortably in his chair. She fascinated him like no other, and it wasn't just the aura of innocence that she carried with her. He had bedded virgins before, but none of them had ever affected him like this. Just being near her intoxicated him, made him feel things that he had never felt before, things that a devil like him should never be allowed to feel. He had almost hoped that seeing her once more would put these thoughts to rest, but instead it had forced the realization that the connection between them was wonderfully real. Drawn from his thoughts by a knock at the door, Chuck scowled at his intruder.

"Master Jack is here. Are you at home?" Arthur's sour tone indicated that he very much wished Chuck was not receiving guests.

Taking another drink of his scotch, Chuck once again wondered why after all these years, Arthur still called his uncle by his childhood diminutive. His uncle was after all a Viscount, having inherited the lesser title after his father, Chuck's grandfather, had passed on. It was so surprising that Arthur, who was such a stickler for titles and names, refused to use Jack's. Chuck often wondered if the old man did it on purpose, but since to his amusement it offended his uncle, he never bothered to correct Arthur.

"Might as well see what the bastard wants," Chuck responded at last.

With a mere flicker of his eyelids, Arthur conveyed his displeasure at Chuck's decision before turning and leaving the room.

Glancing at the clock on his desk and realizing it was shortly after two, Chuck wondered what his uncle could possibly want that necessitated a call this late. Especially since the last time he had seen Jack, the man had vowed never to step foot in his residence again.

"Master Jack, Your Grace," Arthur proclaimed, before turning and leaving the room.

The Viscount of Blackfield, Jack Bass, swept into Chuck's study. "I don't understand why you don't retire him. His inability to get even the simplest of titles correct is infuriating."

"Has hell frozen over, Uncle?" Chuck asked with a slight emphasis on the word Uncle. He knew how much Jack hated being referred to as his uncle. He much preferred that Chuck use his Christian name, especially since they were only five years apart, Jack's birth being a highly surprising and unplanned event on the part of his Grandparents.

Jack's lips tightened for a moment. "I could ask you the same thing. Since when do you bother with social events?"

"Even the devil likes to venture out of hell occasionally," Chuck replied with a smirk.

"And how was Lucifer received?" Jack's asked smugly.

Chuck's smirk disappeared. "I am sure you have heard by now."

"Ah, yes," Jack answered with a self-satisfied expression. "Your appearance was the talk of the evening. Is it true you threatened Lord Danbury to a duel for merely addressing you?"

"No." Rising from his chair, Chuck refilled his glass of scotch. "The cur insulted me, and all I did was ask for his name."

"That isn't what they are saying. " Jack made his way over to the sideboard and picked up a glass. "May I?"

Chuck gave Jack a long look. "After that lecture you gave me years ago about the evils of alcohol, I didn't think you indulged."

"I don't," Jack answered quickly. "But after spending the night convincing the ton that you weren't there to collect virgins for your orgies, I think I deserve a drink."

"By all means," Chuck replied with a wave of his hand. Taking a seat on the leather settee, he continued, "I should be grateful they are no longer harping on the dungeon in which I supposedly chain up innocents until I have my wicked way with them."

Jack poured himself a glass of the scotch and, from the corner of his eye, Chuck watched his uncle sip the alcohol as if he had spent a lifetime imbibing spirits.

"I am assuming this foray into society will be your last?" Jack asked with a serious expression on his face.

"What gave you that idea?"

Appearing almost unsettled, Jack sank into one of the chairs nearest Chuck. "You can't seriously be thinking of a second engagement after the disaster of this one."

Chuck took a lingering drink of scotch, rolling the rich liquid over his tongue, knowing full well he was annoying Jack by delaying his answer. "What if I am?"

"You can't decide on a childish whim that you want to be a member of society," Jack scoffed.

"Why not?"

"Because you're not welcome," Jack said plainly. "Not only have you spent years thumbing your nose at the haut ton by ignoring their existence, you have chosen to live a life of absolute depravity. Even going so far as to create a hedonistic kingdom that no one in polite society wants to recognize exists.

"They are more than happy to recognize my so-called kingdom when they have an itch they want to scratch." Chuck said with a knowing smile

"I told you long ago, in this very room, that if you continued on this path that every door in society would be closed to you, and you laughed. I did everything in my power to make you reconsider your choices, but you made it quite clear you would do as you pleased. Now you are paying the price," Jack said piously.

"Funny, that is not quite how I remember it. You seemed more than happy to leave me to my vices," Chuck drawled.

An offended look crossed Jack's face. "It may have seemed that way, but I thought that your lifestyle was merely an incident of childish rebellion. I was sure if I left you alone you and didn't push the issue, you would grow out of it.

Unfortunately, you proved me wrong."

"Don't worry. My reputation isn't as damaged as you would think," Chuck said dryly. "I managed to wrangle an invitation to the Grenville's. No doubt thanks to you and your sterling reputation, the Bass name still means something," His sarcastic tone caused Jack to look at him sharply.

"That was one invitation," Jack protested. "You think after tonight, anyone else will be clamoring to have you grace their affair? Even if we forget the Grenville's ball, there are still your bi-weekly parties. Even now, they still make the papers.

Chuck idly stroked the top of his crystal glass. "What if the parties stopped?"

Jack bit back a laugh. "Even if they did, they now define who you are. You will never be able to escape the damage they have done to your reputation, let alone to your soul.

"You forget I am a Duke, a very wealthy one." Chuck's voice was as cutting as a whip. "If that isn't enough to pave my way, I have with my vices managed to accumulate information on even the most respectable crème de la crème of society. As for my soul, I have already been told I don't have one."

"You turned your back on your legacy and your birthright, and you don't get to get it back just because one night you decided for a lark to attend a ball," Jack's replied bitterly.

"We shall see."

"Even if you do manage to re-enter society, it won't change who you are, what you have become. Everyone will still recognize you as Lucifer. You will be shunned, and mothers will hide their precious daughters from you, afraid that your darkness will somehow damage them. You have no chance of making a decent match, let alone snare a beauty like Lady Blair Waldorf."

Chuck clenched his jaw in anger. "Maybe I haven't given you your due. I realize that you have more then done your part representing the Bass family name, and while I appreciate it, I find it no longer necessary. As gratitude, perhaps you will accept a cash settlement," he all but sneered.

Jack's looked at Chuck almost sorrowfully. "So that is what this about. Everyone saw the way you looked at her, the way you danced with her. You have all but made a fool of yourself. They are still laughing about it in the clubs."

Moving over to the bottle of scotch, Chuck unsteadily splashed the liquid into his glass until it was overflowing.

"Give it up, Chuck. Lady Blair is not for you. Go back to your parties and your whores," Jack entreated gently.

Closing his eyes, Chuck imagined never speaking to Blair again, never being in her presence, and he saw a future of despair and emptiness. God help him, he had never needed anyone, wanted anyone, until her. "Even the devil deserves a chance at happiness," he said after a long pause.

"Not even someone as pure as her can erase the taint of your reputation." Jack warned.

"You have said your peace, now leave," Chuck said roughly.

Jack nodded and stood up. "I have only ever wanted your happiness. When your father was dying, I told him I would look out for you, and I am afraid I failed you miserably."

Chuck felt the darkness come upon him. "Get out."

As Jack left the room he remembered that fateful morning, the chill in the air, the snow that gently coated the grass.

"_Master Chuck! Master Chuck!"_

_Arthur's frantic voice had Chuck instantly rolling out of bed. Running to the door__,__ he quickly unlocked it. As he caught sight of Arthur's gray face__,__ he instantly knew something was wrong. _

"_Your father—"_

_Chuck didn't even wait for his manservant to continue. Hearing the commotion downstairs, he ran down the stone steps towards the main entry of the manor, not even caring that he was still dressed in his nightclothes. Pausing on the last step, he watched in horror as his father was carried through the door on a stretcher. His eye was instantly drawn to the blood seeping from the Duke's chest. He didn't even register that his Uncle Jack had approached him until the man was standing directly in front of him._

"_I'm so sorry," Jack said quietly._

"_No," Chuck whispered, shaking his head._

_Jack laid his hand on Chuck's arm. "It was an accident."_

_Shoving his uncle away, Chuck stepped towards his father. "No," he repeated__,__ as if his denial would wake him from this nightmare. It wasn't possible that the waxy, empty shell of a man that that lay before him could be his father. _

"_Your Grace?"_

_Noticing that his father's favorite hunting hat had somehow fallen to the ground, Chuck picked it up. Bart would hate it if one of the servants crushed it by stepping on it. _

"_Your Grace?" The voice was louder this time__,__ and Chuck wondered why his father wasn't answering. _

"_Chuck!" _

_Looking up from the hat in his hands, Chuck once more found Jack beside him. _

"_This isn't the time for this," Jack snapped. "The servants need to know where to put the body."_

_Chuck tried to give word to his__thoughts, but all he could do was stare at his father's face. Death had taken the harshness from his features, softened the lines around his mouth__,__ and Chuck saw his father as he must have been before his responsibilities and the death of his mother had taken their toll. _

"_Chuck." His uncle's voice was softer now. "There are decisions that need to be made, things you are responsible for."_

_Tearing his gaze from his father, Chuck accepted the truth of what his Uncle said. "Put His Grace in the drawing room." His voice was so raw it hurt to speak._

"_The—"_

_Holding up his hand to silence Jack, he watched as the servants slowly lifted the stretcher, bearing the Duke with solemn ceremony out of the entryway. _

"_What happened…to my father?" _

"_It was stray fire," Jack said sadly. _

_Chuck took a deep steadying breath. "The local magistrate will need to be called. We need to find out who was responsible for this."_

"_It will be nearly impossible. Most of the estate was out partridge hunting this morning."_

"_Someone had to have seen something," Chuck protested. "There needs to be an investigation__.__" His father was dead, his life cut short before Chuck had even had a chance to…but he couldn't think of that now. _

_Jack ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair before stepping closer to Chuck. "He asked for you."_

_Chuck's vision blurred, his breath dying in his chest. He was supposed to have been at his father's side, not Jack. He remembered how just the night before, in a rage, he had told Bart to take his uncle instead of him._

"_I know it isn't the same that I was there, but having raised us as brothers, your father always thought of me as a son." Jack's lips curled into a half smile__,__ as if he guessed the torment he was causing. _

_Chuck had never known such excruciating pain - it was as if he had been robbed of his very existence. Turning his back on his uncle__,__ he replied coldly, "But you weren't…were you." _

Slowly, Chuck opened his eyes, pushing the hated memory away. Sitting back down, he stared at his scotch, peering into the amber depths. As he spun the glass in his hand, the swirling color reminded him of her ever-changing eyes. The way they flashed gold when she was angry, how they sparkled like stars when she was laughing and how, when he kissed her, they darkened to burnt caramel. Thinking of her finally accomplished what the scotch, whores and opium all failed to do:drive the demons away.

* * *

The representatives from Rundell, Bridge and Rundell jewelers arrived at The Duke of Alverstoke's London townhouse promptly at ten. It was not customary to visit clients at their homes, but the Duke had shown himself to be extremely generous in the past when it came to purchases, so allowances were made. Ushered into the drawing room, they busied themselves by unpacking their leather attaché cases, lifting out tray after tray of precious gems. Standing at attention behind the jewelry, they eagerly awaited the Duke.

Sauntering into the room in a purple velvet-dressing gown, Chuck stopped in front of the glittering display. Arthur followed behind him with a crystal glass of orange juice held aloft on a silver platter.

Chuck ran his finger over an emerald necklace, lifting it up he tested the weight of it before shaking his head and placing it back down. "It's too heavy for her small neck," he murmured.

"Your juice, Your Grace." Arthur said.

Absentmindedly, Chuck picked up the glass and took a sip before lifting a sapphire bracelet and peering at the stones. "They're flawed," he said, throwing the bauble down.

There was a rapping at the front door and Arthur bowed, leaving the room to attend to the caller.

Setting his glass down, Chuck picked up a simple yet elegant necklace. The weight was perfect, not too heavy to overwhelm. It was light enough that Blair could wear it all night long, and it would look stunning hanging from her slender neck, the main stone dangling just above her décolleté.

"Don't bother to announce me, Arthur," the voice said from the doorway of the drawing room.

Turning around, Chuck waved for his good friend Nathaniel Archibald to join him. The two had met at Oxford when Chuck had saved Nate from the clutches of a notorious cardsharp. Grateful at not having lost his allowance, Nate had pestered Chuck, constantly including him in his social events until Chuck had finally given in and accepted the futility of resisting the friendship. To Chuck's surprise, they had continued to be friends long after his descent into darkness. While he knew Nate didn't approve of his lifestyle, he never voiced his disapproval.

"Nathaniel, what brings you here so bright and early this morning?" Chuck drawled.

"Here I was, enjoying a peaceful smoke at my club last night, when I received the sensational news that Lucifer had been spotted attending a society event. Can you imagine my shock? " Nate asked jovially. "I wanted to run over here immediately and congratulate you on emerging from your cave."

"This is hardly a cave." Chuck set down the necklace he was holding. "I suppose they were laughing and sneering at the club about my audacity in dancing with Lady Blair?"

Nate's rubbed his chin. "Why would you think that? All the talk was how you only danced one dance, singling out Lady Blair Waldorf, and then you left.

"You're lying," Chuck said flatly.

"No, I'm not," Nate protested.

"Yes, you are. You scratched your chin, and you always do that when you are telling a half-truth."

"Well, there was talk, but there was no sneering or laughing," Nate's brow furrowed in thought. "Mostly wonder and astonishment that you were at a ball and that you were drawn to Lady Blair. The lady is not exactly the type you are associated with."

"And?" Chuck prodded.

"And it may have been mentioned that you threatened to ruin anyone that kept you from dancing with Lady Blair," Nate added sheepishly.

"Well, at least they are somewhat speaking the truth."

Nate's mouth dropped open in shock. "It can't be true. Have you at last succumbed to Cupid's arrow?"

Chuck ignored him and once more picked up the diamond necklace he had been holding earlier. "What do you think of this as a gift for Lady Blair?"

Arthur cleared his throat noisily and shot Nate a pointed look.

"It would be perfect if you were thinking of making the Lady your mistress," Nate said with a laugh.

Chuck frowned and set the necklace down.

Arthur spoke up, "If I may, Your Grace?" At Chuck's nod he continued, "The morning after a dance, it is customary to send flowers to one's dance partners if the gentleman wants to pursue the acquaintance. If one wishes to express a serious interest in courtship, a small token of affection might be included."

"Well, that is what the necklace is for," Chuck explained patiently. "It is beautiful, extravagant, and shows Lady Blair how much I hold her in esteem."

"Chuck, the necklace will be taken as an insult. The Lady will think you are intending something more from the acquaintance. Or perhaps that is your intent?" When Chuck didn't answer, Nate continued, "If you are hoping for a casual torrid affair with Lady Blair, you are in for a disappointment. From everything I have observed of her, nothing less than marriage – presumably with someone of an elevated social rank, even royalty – will be acceptable. Seek a mistress elsewhere. I have no doubt that there are dozens of other women who would welcome your intentions. Especially with that necklace."

"I don't wish her for a mistress," Chuck growled.

"Does this mean you like the lady?"

Chuck picked up a ruby ring, pretending to study it intently.

Nate grinned widely. "I can't believe it."

"How do you think I feel?" Chuck asked as he tossed the ring back on to the table. "I can't eat, I can'tsleep! I feel sick, like there's something in my stomach…fluttering."

"Butterflies," Nate replied with wonder. As Arthur moved to return the ruby ring to its velvet-lined case, Nate snuck a glance at the servant and couldn't help noticing the pleased smile on the elderly man's face.

Grimacing, Chuck moved to examine several pairs of pearl and diamond earrings. "Growing up as the heir to a Dukedom, women have thrown themselves at me my whole life. In fact, it seemed to me that all it took to get between a woman's legs is to be titled or rich. To have both, nothing is denied you," Chuck declared loftily.

"No one would accuse you of being conceited," Nate replied with a chuckle.

Chuck didn't bother to acknowledge Nate's comment. "With Lady Blair, the rules have changed. The lady will not be moved by my title or my wealth, and my reputation does me a great disservice," he said darkly.

"Maybe Your Grace would consider one of the jeweled fans? Or perhaps one of the hair combs?" Arthur suggested.

"Such a small gift, while costly, will be most acceptable."

Chuck moved further down the table to peer at the smaller, less extravagant items.

"I have always found that the ladies enjoy a bottle of scent," Nate suggested helpfully.

"Lady Blair is not like the typical ladies you consort with." Shooting Nate a haughty look, Chuck picked up an ivory hair comb. He pictured Blair's hair loose and in curls down her back and his heart tightened uncomfortably. "It is just so plebian," he muttered as he set the hair comb down. "Something one would buy a shop girl!"

Arthur took the opportunity to lift a padded tray from one of the tables, bringing it over for Chuck's perusal. "Does anything catch your eye, Your Grace?"

Chuck was about to refuse when something glittering did catch his eye. Reaching down, he lifted up a pack of jeweled hairpins nestled in white silk. The hairpins were made of gold and perched on the end were butterflies, their wings fashioned out of semiprecious stones. In her hair they would glitter; butterflies arrested in flight among her curls. He knew that he would never find a more perfect gift. It was as if they had been made for him to give to her. "They are exquisite, just like her," he murmured, forgetting he had an audience.

Nate walked over to take a look. "Butterflies? Really, Chuck. One would think you were a giddy schoolgirl," he teased.

Casting his friend his blackest look, Chuck handed the hairpins over the representative of Rundell, Bridge and Rundell. "I'll take these, and the diamond necklace I looked at earlier."

The representative nodded eagerly, pleased at having made such a lucrative sale.

Chuck was about to turn away and finish his orange juice when he noticed an almost hesitant look pass over the representative's face. "You have something you wish to say?" The words were a command.

"Your Grace…It is just that, if you were looking to continue with the theme of butterflies…there is a lovely jeweled fan that was made to go with the hairpins."

"Show me."

The representative moved to pick up the fan. With a bow he handed it over to the Duke.

With a flick of Chuck's wrist, the fan flew open. As he stared at the butterflies painted on the silk, he knew he had to have it for Blair. "Good work," Chuck said in a congratulatory tone.

The representative beamed with happiness and, accepting the fan back, he moved to box up the purchases.

As Nate opened his mouth to speak, Chuck turned to him sharply. "Not a word, Archibald."

* * *

Edited by nondescriptf and Tati


	3. Chapter 3

After a morning spent being seen at Westminster Chapel, in all their Sunday finery, the Waldorfs and van der Woodsens were now enjoying a quiet afternoon at home. Even though it was a Sunday, bouquets had been arriving all day for both Lady Blair and Lady Serena. Most of the gentleman whom they had danced with the previous night at Lord Grenville's, had sent floral arrangements in hopes of furthering their courtships. There had been so many flowers delivered, that the entire drawing room was beginning to resemble an indoor garden. It didn't help that Lady Waldorf, with London's gray weather in mind, had decorated the room in numerous shades of green, with white accents.

Curled up in one of the striped brocade wing back chairs, Blair was idly paging through Godey's Lady Book. Across from her on the settee sat her mother and Lily, quietly gossiping about the events from the night before. In front of the large bowed windows that overlooked the street, Serena was plunking away at a grand piano. Blair cringed, looking up from the Worth evening gown that had caught her attention, as her friend hit yet another wrong note.

"How many times do you plan on butchering Chopin's Etude, S?"

Serena's hands crashed down on the keys. "How is it that you manage to make it look so easy?"

"It isn't that hard," Blair replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

Eleanor spoke up, "She can thank the daily hours I made her practice growing up."

"You are lucky Blair took to her lessons so easily," Lily sighed. "No matter how hard I tried, I could never get Serena to sit at the piano for more then a few minutes. Well…that was until I engaged Mr. Forrester to be her tutor. After that, she was all about her lessons."

"Mr. Forrester had the loveliest brown eyes," Serena said dreamily.

"I remember that. Unfortunately, he was so busy staring into yours, you never learned a thing at your lessons," Blair replied dryly.

"Serena!" Lily exclaimed. "Is that why, to this day, you can never make your way through a composition?"

"I can too," Serena argued, turning the page of her sheet music with determination.

"Please spare our ears and have some tea," Lily replied with a small shudder.

"Mother," Serena whined.

Blair lifted her magazine to her face, hiding her smile.

There was a rap on the door and Vanya entered carrying a huge bouquet of pink peonies.

"These just arrived for Lady Blair," he stated with a slight bow.

"Oh, those are lovely. Peonies are so rare this time of year," Lily gushed.

Eleanor smiled with pleasure at the bouquet. "Those must be from Lord Cary. He has such excellent taste in flowers."

All but rolling her eyes, Blair indicated to Vanya that he should bring her the bouquet. She knew her mother had no interest in Lord Cary as a suitor for her, rather she saw the man for the connections he had. She had been told under no uncertain terms to be charming to the elderly gentleman. It was no secret that he had been charged with finding a suitable bride, for his royal cousin. An English wife was highly desired by the Grimaldis to cement an alliance with Queen Victoria and the British Empire.

Setting down her periodical, Blair took the basket that Vanya handed her. She couldn't help but appreciate Lord Cary's taste. His bouquet stood out among the roses that filled the room. The flowers were exquisite. Each one had to have been carefully chosen as there was no bruising or dropped petals on any of them. She reached out to caress one of the pale almost translucent blooms. Lifting a peony to her nose she inhaled deeply, taking pleasure in the heavenly fragrance that permeated the air. Lord Cary had chosen well.

"Read the card, Blair," Eleanor said eagerly.

Digging carefully through the peonies for a note, she tried not to disturb the arrangement. Finding the card at last she was surprised to find that it was attached to a small square leather jewel case. Putting the present in her lap she set the basket of flowers down on the floor.

"He sent you a gift? You must have left more of an impression on him then I thought." There was no mistaking the pride in Eleanor's voice.

Personally, Blair was shocked that Lord Cary would have bothered to send a present. Even though she had promised to help his royal cousin feel welcome when he visited in a month's time, there was no reason for him to reward her with a gift. Especially, since according to her mother, he was doing her the honor.

Detaching the card from the gift, she turned the envelope over and recognized the wax seal at once. She had seen that very same coat of arms just several days ago on a silver tea service. Only one family in all of England used two leopards guarding a coronet…the Bass Family. She felt her heart leap into her throat and it took all of her willpower to keep her hands steady as she broke the seal. Quickly, she glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye and wondered how on earth she would even begin to explain her previous association with the Duke if he were to mention it in his note. She would just have to trust that the he knew better then to hint at it in any correspondence he might send her. Still, that didn't stop the feeling of lightheadedness she had as she opened the note.

In an elegant sweep of a pen, he had written only one line. _Do you feel them fluttering too? _

Before she had a chance to try and decipher what he meant, her mother was pulling the card from her grasp.

"This is from the Duke of Alverstoke," Eleanor said in shock.

"I know," Blair answered quietly. Unable to look at her mother, she focused on the package that lay in her lap. Like Pandora's box, she was afraid to touch it, let alone open it. Deep down inside, she knew that whatever was in there had the potential to forever change her life.

Eleanor shook the card at her daughter. "Blair, what does this mean? What is he talking about?"

"I don't know. It makes no sense to me either…" her voice trailed off as she tried to think of anything that could possibly explain the Duke's odd note.

"Why did you have to dance with him?" Eleanor moaned. "Not only is his reputation as black as they come, he seems to be mad as well."

"It's not like she had a choice," Lily interjected in a soothing tone. "She could hardly refuse. To do so would have caused even more talk."

"I know," Eleanor sighed. "But the gossip that has come from it… I have no idea what Lord Cary will think. It is important that there be no scandal before his cousin comes to visit."

"You should, at least, be comforted by the fact that Lady Melbourne was responsible for the introduction. She obviously felt it would do Blair's reputation no ill will to dance with the Duke," Lily offered.

Eleanor made a sound of annoyance. "She just enjoys being the center of scandal, giving the ton something to talk about."

Blair tore her gaze from the present to look up at her Mother. "You are fretting about a man I have never met. There is no guarantee that the Prince will be the least bit interested in me. "

"I have it on good authority from Lord Cary that you are exactly the type of woman the Grimaldi family is looking for," Eleanor said with a sniff.

Serena made her way over to Blair's side, leaning against the wing back chair. "Open the present, B. I am dying to know what is inside."

Blair picked up the leather jewel case and ran the tip of her finger over the stamped logo for Rundell, Bridges and Rundell.

"It's from Rundell's," Serena announced, barely containing her excitement.

"Whatever else they may say about him, Lucifer has good taste in jewelers," Lily murmured.

Eleanor pressed her hand to her forehead. "Let's not mention that unfortunate nickname. I don't care to think of my daughter dancing with someone named after the prince of darkness."

Blair barely breathed as she struggled to undo the clasp on the box. She didn't know what she was so afraid of. Normally small boxes from Rundell's had her giddy with pleasure. With a small click the box opened to reveal ten gold hairpins with jeweled butterflies on the tips.

"They're beautiful," Serena cooed.

Blair couldn't help herself. Without thinking she lifted one from the velvet and held it up to the light. The jeweled butterfly wings instantly trapped the sunlight, reflecting it in rainbow shades on the wall of the drawing room.

With a gasp, Blair suddenly realized the hidden meaning in the Duke's message. _Do you feel them fluttering too? _Her lashes lowered and she felt them then, gentle flutters deep inside her that left her weak and exhilarated all at once. She had never known such an odd mixture of feelings, such a loss of control.

Lily reached down to pick up the box of hairpins. "These are exquisite, Blair." Taking one out of the pins she examined it. "The Duke spent a small fortune on these. The pins are solid gold and while the butterflies are made of semi-precious stones, the craftsmanship is exquisite. I have never seen anything like it."

Blair didn't doubt Lily's judgment. The woman, besides having been married twice, hadn't lacked for suitors. Over the years she had received numerous little boxes from Rundell's. Her jewelry collection was almost legendary.

"She can't keep them," Eleanor said, having finally found her voice.

A sudden sinking feeling overwhelmed Blair. Although she suspected the gift was most likely a pawn in some sort of game the Duke was playing with her, she didn't want to give them up. She had never received anything so lovely before.

"You can't mean that, Lady Waldorf," Serena said, her brow furrowing in distress. "Especially since they will look so lovely in Blair's hair."

Eleanor took the hairpin from Lily's hand. "Regardless of how they might look in her hair, Blair can't accept such a gift." Examining the tiny butterfly, even Eleanor wasn't immune to the gifts charms. "They really are exquisite," she said begrudgingly.

Lily and Serena exchanged smiles behind Eleanor's back.

"To send them back would be an insult," Lily warned. "Do you really wish to make an enemy of the Duke of Alverstoke?"

"No," Eleanor replied with a sigh. "It is no secret that the Bass family owns half of London, although, that was when the former Duke was alive. Who knows how much of that fortune the current Duke has wasted with his debauched lifestyle?"

Lily's forehead puckered with thought. "I haven't heard of the Bass's pockets being let. Their estates are known for being well managed and I would expect it would take several lifetimes to spend the fortune Bartholomew Bass accumulated. "

"Even if she keeps the gift, the connection is not one I wish to recognize," Eleanor said with a stern look in her daughter's direction. She couldn't help but notice that Blair was still staring at those butterflies.

"Even though the Duke has lived less then a respectable existence, his presence at the Grenville's suggests he might finally be outgrowing his sins," Lily suggested gently.

Eleanor reached over and plucked the hairpins from Blair's reluctant fingers. "For heavens sake, Lily, the man is called Lucifer! Something he is quite proud of from what I have heard. Such a man does not easily change his ways."

"Eleanor, the man has butterflies from your daughter," Lily replied in a teasing tone.

"Butterflies?" Eleanor looked at Lily like she was mad.

"The card. _Do you feel them fluttering too? _That can only mean that he has butterflies." Lily held her hand to her breast. "It is so romantic. I would have never expected it. Although, his father, when courting Evelyn, was supposed to have put her other suitors to shame with his romantic poems."

"The current Duke is no Bart Bass," Eleanor said in a forbidding tone.

"He could be," Lily answered defensively. "Look at the Duke's uncle, Jack Bass. He is all that is respectable. Any mother would be thrilled to have him courting their daughter. Maybe his uncle's influence is finally rubbing off on the Duke."

"Maybe," Eleanor muttered. "I suppose it would seem petty and in poor taste to return the gift. I guess you may keep the hairpins."

Blair tried to hide the small smile that curled the edges of her lips. Her mother, who had been watching her intently, did not miss it.

Eleanor returned the box of hairpins to Blair. "You will write to him and thank him for his gift, but you will keep it is brief as possible without being discourteous. Those butterflies of his must be murdered," Eleanor ordered coldly.  
Blair could only nod in agreement. There was no place in her carefully orchestrated life for the likes of Charles Bass, Duke of Alverstoke.

* * *

Blair sat at her dressing table, combing out her long curls. From the time she was a little girl, her mother had insisted that the only way to preserve her crowing glory was a hundred brush strokes administered daily. To this day, Blair still did as she was told, counting them out one by one. Only this evening she was distracted, restless. As her eyes were drawn to the butterfly hairpins that lay on her dressing table, she knew why. She was thinking about him again and his ridiculous fluttering. What could he have been thinking to send her such a card? To say such things? Somehow, he had known just the right phrase to pluck at the already fraying cord of her carefully controlled existence.

As her mother entered her bedroom, she paused and set her brush down.

"You look so lovely, Blair." Eleanor crossed the room to stand behind her daughter.

Hearing the sadness in her mother's voice, Blair caught her mother's eye in the mirror. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly." Eleanor picked up the brush and ran it through Blair's hair. "It just sometimes strikes me how grown up you are."

"Well, it was bound to happen sometime," Blair answered teasingly.

Eleanor smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Tell me about the Duke of Alverstoke?"

Blair lowered her gaze. "There is nothing to tell."

"Then why did the Duke single you out for a dance? You were the only one he danced with at the Grenvilles."

"I don't know," she replied, trying to sound casual.

Eleanor paused in her ministrations, set the brush down and began loosely braiding Blair's hair. "It just doesn't make sense. And now with this gift, I don't know what to think."

"I am sure it means nothing." Even as the words left Blair's mouth she felt a horrible fear that maybe it was true. Maybe there was nothing special about her and the gift had no deeper meaning. Perhaps, to the Duke, she was merely a way to pass the time.

"Yet he only danced with you," Eleanor stressed. "I don't believe that the Duke does anything without a purpose behind it. If I didn't know any better I would assume that the two of you had met before. Is that true, Blair?"  
Blair turned to face her mother. Never before had she lied like she was about to. She could only hope that her face would not betray her. Lifting her eyes directly to her mother's, she willed them to hide her machinations and reflect only innocence. "I have no idea why he chose to dance with me. Maybe it was all a joke, or part of some bet.

Eleanor stared at her intently for several long moments and just as Blair thought she was going to weaken and tell her everything, her mother spoke, "I suppose that is possible."

As Blair realized she had passed Eleanor's test, she let just the slightest sigh of relief pass her lips. "Who really knows why the Duke does anything?"

"What do you know of him?"

"His uncle is Jack Bass, Viscount of Blackfield. The Duke prefers to be called by his nickname, Lucifer, and he hosts the most scandalous parties. He has never ventured into polite society, choosing instead to seclude himself at his residence," Blair parroted.

"So you must understand my worry and concern. Here is a man who has defied convention, turned his back on his duties, choosing instead a lifestyle that no decent member of society would approve of. He is a disgrace and I don't want him to think he can trifle with your affections."

Blair felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Every word her mother spoke was true. "I do understand and I promise I will not encourage him in anyway." Even though the words pained her, she knew it was the right course of action.

Eleanor placed a kiss on top of Blair's head. "Thank you. You must know by now that all I desire is to see you achieve everything that you deserve. I have done nothing but foster those ladylike qualities that are most desired in a bride. You deserve nothing less then a prince and I promise that you shall have one."

"I know, Mother." It was true. Her mother had ensured that she excel at every accomplishment that was necessary to succeed in society as a lady. She could play the piano, sing, draw and paint, converse intelligently and while her needlework was not the most skilled it was adequate. After her father had died, her mother had focused all of her attention towards her, attempting to craft her into a replica of the ultimate role model for gentility, Queen Victoria. Her father had always called her his princess, promising her that someday her prince would arrive on a white horse. Her mother, taking her father's words to heart, was ensuring that his vision came true. If at times Blair felt stifled, she tacked it up to some problem within herself. How could she not appreciate all her mother was doing for her?

"Are you excited to meet Prince Grimaldi?" Eleanor asked coyly.

Forcing an enthusiasm she did not quite feel, Blair replied with the only acceptable answer, "Yes."

"I have heard from Lord Cary that not only is he very handsome, he is a perfect gentleman as well. Lord Cary has even gone so far as to write and recommend you as a suitable match."

"That is kind of him," she murmured faintly.

Her mother looked at her sharply, "He does you a great honor."

"I know and I am truly grateful."

Eleanor looked at her appraisingly. "You are tired. I will admit this whirlwind of social events has left even me exhausted. Go to bed and get some rest."

"Yes, Mother."

"We will speak more of this in the morning." Eleanor patted Blair on the shoulder. "Sweet dreams, Dear."

"Good night." Blair watched as her mother left the room. Turning once more to her mirror, she gazed at herself critically. Her skin suddenly looked too pale, her eyes too large for her face. While the newspapers proclaimed she was a great beauty, she couldn't always see it herself. Perhaps with his attention and his gifts, Lucifer was only playing with her, taking delight in mocking her and her innocence behind her back. Well, she wouldn't participate in his games any longer. She would think only of Prince Grimaldi and the life he could offer her.

* * *

Edited by nondescriptf


	4. Chapter 4

Leaning against one of the marble columns in the ballroom, Chuck sipped his champagne. He would have preferred a strong scotch, but damn if he was going to hunt his host down and demand it. Especially when he didn't want anyone to know who he was. About to take another drink, his hand froze midway as he saw her glide into the ballroom. He would have recognized her graceful walk and lithe figure anywhere, even disguised as she was now. The glow of hundreds of gaslight flames illuminated her, casting a golden shimmer about her that made her look positively angelic. Garbed as a Goddess, her hair was unpinned and flowing down her back and he wanted nothing more then to touch that shining silk. Her Grecian gown was ivory, held in place by a cluster of roses over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. His fingers twitched as he imagined what it would be like to touch that ivory expanse of skin - to trail kisses along her collarbone, to skim her slim arms with his hands. Her every curve was on display and his body tightened painfully. Jealously, he wanted to throw a blanket over her and keep her from the other guest's lustful glances and indecent thoughts.

She stood with her mother who was dressed as Queen Elizabeth, Lady van der Woodsen who appeared to be an artist and a Cleopatra who could only be her friend Serena in a dark wig. He watched with disgust as a gentleman dressed as a vampire instantly approached the group. Whatever he said had Eleanor nodding and smiling and Chuck growled as Blair accepted the gentleman's arm.

Hidden in the shadows, once more on the outside looking in, Chuck keenly felt the gulf that lay between them. He accepted that courting Blair was going to be nearly impossible with his reputation, but he couldn't give up. His fate had been sealed the moment he kissed her. He was compelled to know her and find out what lay between them. As he watched her smile up at the gentleman she was dancing with he felt a dull pain, like he had been punched in the gut. He wanted her to look at him like that, to smile as if he was the light in her world, not the darkness. It took all of his resolve not to whisk her off the dance floor and steal her away.

"What's with the dark, brooding look?" A familiar voice asked.

Chuck turned to face Nathaniel Archibald, dressed as a knight with a sword at his belt.

"How did you recognize me? Isn't this supposed to be a masquerade?" He muttered.

"Chuck, you're dressed as the devil." There was no mistaking the amusement in Nate's voice. "Couldn't you at least have tried to be more original?"

"Somehow it just seemed appropriate," he replied dryly. "Practically ironic."

"I suppose if someone were to search for you, the last disguise they would think of you wearing would be your namesake, " Nate mused. "Although I would have known you by the way you were scowling at Lord Cary."

"That vampire is Lord Cary? Why the devil is she dancing with him?"

"By she, I assume we are speaking of Lady Blair?"

Chuck's glare was answer enough.

"Maybe she likes him?" Nate teased. "Maybe it is because he is an excellent dancer or she has a fondness for vampires?"

"The man is practically a corpse. He is twice her age and has buried two wives already. What can Lady Waldorf be thinking?"

Nate lowered his voice. "You forget he is well connected. He is related to the Grimaldi family and the Queen and there are rumors that he is seeking an English bride for his cousin, Prince Louis Grimaldi. It has even been gossiped that your Lady Blair is his favorite candidate."

"That damned woman's ambitions. She would happily commit Blair to a man she hardly knows just to guarantee her a crown. " Chuck scowled angrily.

"Instead of you who…what exactly are you willing to offer Lady Blair?" Nate's eyes sparkled mischievously.

Giving Nate his most foreboding glare, Chuck stalked off towards the dance floor.

Blair curtsied to her escort as the orchestra finished the song with a flourish. Dancing with Lord Cary had been pleasant, like she had been dancing with an uncle or old family friend. Most of the talk had centered on his famous cousin, Prince Louis Grimaldi, and his upcoming visit to London. When Lord Cary had asked for her help in welcoming the Prince to London, Blair had done what was expected and graciously agreed. As she was led off the dance floor, she felt a presence behind her and an unexpected feeling of anticipation swept through her.

"Good evening, my Lady."

The dark, sensual timbre of the voice caused her heart to skip a beat and she knew at once it was Chuck Bass who had spoken. She had wondered if he would attend another social event, if she would have another chance to see him again. When she arrived she had searched the crowd, examining the gentleman, wondering if he hid behind any of the masks she saw.

She turned to face him and realized that even if she hadn't recognized his voice, she would have known his eyes. Although a red devil's mask covered the upper part of his face, he gazed at her with the same passionate intensity that left her breathless and weak. There was no way she wouldn't have recognized him. Not only were his eyes familiar, his mouth was as well. It was perfectly formed, the lower lip slightly fuller then the upper. As she remembered the feel, the taste of his mouth on hers, she felt a shiver of desire slide languorously down her spine.  
Her gaze lingered at the blood red waistcoat that peaked out from underneath his black dress coat. He looked dark and dangerous, like he was the devil himself, coming to collect a soul, her soul. A thrill she couldn't name raced through her.

"Rather then say good evening, shouldn't you be trying to tempt me to part with my soul?" She teased.

He made her a formal bow. "In lieu of your soul, I would be more then satisfied with a dance."

To her surprise she wanted to accept his invitation. If this had been any other occasion then a masked ball, she would have had to refuse. There was no use encouraging him when there could never be anything between him. She would never be another one of his conquests and he would never marry her. Since her mother had refused his calls at their home for the past few days, she was certain he would have gotten the message that a connection between them was impossible. Any gentleman after being rebuffed so thoroughly would have realized the implied insult and made himself scarce. So why was he asking her to dance?

Was it possible he didn't know who she was? Lord Cary stated he never would have recognized her without her mother pointing her out. As she gazed into Chuck's eyes, she saw nothing that indicated recognition, only desire. If he didn't know he was speaking to her, he must be on the prowl for a new mistress. It had to be the costume that had lured him to her. A strange courage possessed her as she realized she was completely anonymous. This newfound freedom brought with it a strange courage and a desire to see how far she could take this.

Before she could reply, Lord Cary touched her elbow from behind. "Do you wish to dance with him, or would you prefer he go away?" he said softly in her ear.

"Thank you for your concern, but I know the gentleman and I will take him up on his offer," she whispered back, so Chuck couldn't overhear.

"I'll leave you to your dance then, my Lady." Lord Cary gave her a bow, and nodding a greeting to the costumed devil, he made his way towards a lady dressed as a mermaid.

Blair glanced up at Chuck, finding to her surprise, that he was frowning at Lord Cary's back. She was suddenly unsure if she was doing the right, but she hadn't been able to stop thinking of his gift, those troublesome butterflies or his note. She was drawn to him in a way she had never dreamed possible. Reflexively, she glanced back towards where she had come from, looking for her mother. Eleanor would certainly not approve of her agreeing to this dance.

"Having second thoughts? I promise not to lead you into temptation," Chuck said, his voice deepening. "Unless that is your desire."

Her gazed centered on his wicked smirk, his dark eyes and her breath hitched in her throat. Shaking herself slightly, she tried to recover from the almost hypnotic effect he had on her.

"My only desire this evening is not to fall prey to the charming wiles of masked gentlemen. "Especially those dressed in devil costumes," she flirted shamefully. She felt the color rise in her cheeks at her boldness, but she didn't care. No one would ever know that that Persephone was Lady Blair Waldorf or that she was dancing with Lucifer.

"Tonight, all this devil wishes is to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room," Chuck lifted her gloved hand to his mouth.

A slow, sensual shiver slid down her spine. She knew it was silly to be so flattered by a compliment from the Duke, especially with his reputation as a master when it came to seduction. Still, a part of her thrilled at the thought that he considered her beautiful. Feeling quite bold, it was she who held out her hand to draw him into the dance. "Shall we waltz then?"

As her feet touched the dance floor, Chuck swept her up into the circle of his arms. Once more, she felt that heady sensation of being so intimately close to him. Spinning around the room, colors blurred and swirled around her until all she could see were his dark eyes, focused entirely on hers.

Breaking protocol, his long elegant fingers twined with hers, instead of just clasping her hand, and she could feel the heat that radiated from him through their gloves. His other hand was splayed over the correct spot on her lower back, but his thumb stroked her indecently through the silk of her dress and her skin tingled and prickled where he touched her. Never before had she danced so scandalously with someone, but instead of worrying about her reputation, she let herself be carried away.

Floating in his embrace, she felt as if she was on a cloud, her feet never touching the ground. She was dizzy, her costume freeing her of societal restraints and she embraced the feeling eagerly. The music, the other dancers, even her mother, disappeared into a blur as he gathered her closer. She was intoxicated, drunk with sensation.  
Breathing became difficult as she looked into his intent gaze, the way his eyes seemed to be devouring her. She could feel her heart racing, as his presence seemed to overwhelm her. As she felt the urge to kiss him, to taste him, she knew she was delirious. She had fallen under Lucifer's spell once more, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to be free again.

As he led her to a stop near the doors that lead to the garden, she felt a cool breeze caress her heated flesh and she awoke to the realization that the dance had ended. She couldn't, didn't want to, move out of his arms. Instead she stood frozen, hoping that the dream would start again. Instead, she heard the sound of applause as he slowly released her.

"Would you care for a walk in the gardens?" His low and raspy voice asked near her ear.

She knew she shouldn't accept. Yet she hesitated to deny him. She wasn't sure she would ever get this chance to be alone with him again. This was the probably the only opportunity she would ever have to be someone else, to pretend to be the only woman he desired. It was so tempting that it left her breathless with anticipation. Besides, they wouldn't be alone, there would be other couples in the garden. She tried to ignore the niggling voice in her head that reminded her that the other couples in the garden were most likely engaged in activities that she wasn't supposed to know existed.

"That would be lovely," she murmured softly, as she tried to hide the true sound of her voice.

He held out his arm, and she laid her fingertips on the curve of his elbow. His other hand closed on top of hers and this simple almost possessive gesture had her heart fluttering. As they headed out towards the starry night, she didn't bother to look back.

Entering the gardens, he led her past groups of gentleman arguing politics, to a quieter area where couples were gathered in conversation. She expected him to choose one of the marble benches that were scattered artfully through the garden for them to sit on, but instead he took her further into the night. At last he stopped by a large tree lit with colored lanterns. It was private and romantic, but most importantly it was out of sight of the rest of the garden's occupants. A breeze gently touched her, rustling her curls and for the first time her long unbound hair made her feel exposed.

She felt his gaze, like a burning caress, as it roved over her bare shoulder, and the curves that were barely hidden by her Grecian dress. For the first time, she regretted her choice of costume.

"Do you know who I am?" She asked hesitantly. All at once she was afraid that he did know who she was, that he was playing a game with her.

His eyes met hers. "By your costume I would guess you are Aphrodite, Goddess of love and desire."

Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, she allowed herself to relax. He didn't know who she was. To her surprise she was conflicted by this. Part of her wished that he had seen through her disguise and known who she was the moment he looked at her. That his words to her in his letter had been true, the flutters real and he wasn't dallying with an unknown woman, even if it was her.

As he stepped closer to her she considered ending this game and returning to the ballroom, but there was a part of her that was enthralled by the danger of being so close to him.

Her voice failed her for a moment just before she spoke, "I am supposed to be Persephone."

"Persephone…Queen of the underworld," he said with a smirk.

Blair brushed her hair off of her shoulder, revealing a spring rose that was constructed to look as if it was holding her dress up. "No," she answered shortly. "Goddess of Spring."

Chuck's gaze drifted over her lazily. "Yet having eaten pomegranate seeds from the underworld, she became Queen of hell."

She mentally kicked herself for not realizing the implications of picking such a costume. "I am Persephone before her appetite led her astray."

"She was the most desirable and beautiful of all the Goddesses, and you are even more exquisite." His voice was as luxurious as velvet.

"I think you are thinking of Aphrodite," Blair said sarcastically.

"No, of all the Goddesses, Hades chose you, Persephone."

His words, rich with meaning, stole her breath away. Never before had she felt so desirable. She wasn't dazzling, not like Serena, but with him she felt like she was the center of his world. He could have had any women he wanted at this masquerade but he chose her.

"She tried to escape and return to her mother."

"Hades loved her at first sight and wouldn't let her go. He did everything he could to woo her." Chuck ran a single fingertip over her bare shoulder and down her arm to the edge of her glove. At the delicate touch Blair's eyes fluttered closed and heat spiraled through her. As his hand lowered, returning once more to his side, she almost moaned at the sudden loss of contact.

Barely breathing, she had trouble finding her voice. "She tried to leave. Fight off his seductive wiles."

"Yet, she fell in love with him anyway and he made her his queen, just like I wish to do." His eyes captured hers, dark in their intensity, and she braced her knees to keep from swooning.

"I think you are embellishing the tale," she said as lightly as she could. "And I am not Persephone."

"You are to me, forbidden and untouchable," he murmured. "Must I kidnap you like Hades and bring you to hell to make you mine?"

"This is not real. It is all just a story."

Ignoring her words, he reached up and lightly touched a curl that had fallen across her breast. "He brought her the most extravagant gifts he could find to tempt her. Gifts of gold, diamonds and pearls."

Her blood heated and thrummed in her veins as his hand light caressed the bare skin of her arm, his finger idly playing with the edge of her glove. Remembering the simple butterfly hairpins that Chuck has given her she answered, "Such cold and unfeeling gifts. No wonder she refused his advances."

"What else would the Goddess prefer?" he asked, surprise coloring his voice. "Doesn't every woman wish for jewels?"

"Yes," Blair admitted. "But sometimes it is the little thoughtful gifts that mean the most. A love note, a bouquet of flowers, a pack of hairpins. Something that makes the giver think of me." Her voice took on a dream-like quality.

He slowly exhaled before speaking. "You are exquisite. Everything I ever dreamed."

She felt his gaze lower to her mouth and her lips slowly parted in anticipation. Seconds passed, little dancing moments of time. The smell of the roses from her gown and hair permeated the heavy air. With a low growl, he pulled her to him, his mouth descending on hers. The minute his lips touched hers, her insides roared with liquid fire. She was caught in a magical web of desire and need and she wished to stay trapped here forever.

Her hands rose to twine around his neck, pulling him closer. His arms wrapped tighter around her, flattening her breasts against his chest and she could feel the unmistakable sensation of his arousal through her thin gown. When at last his tongue touched hers, a quick fluttering movement, she couldn't help the moan that escaped her throat. Being so close to him, smelling his masculine scent, her knees weakened and she struggled to remain upright. Heat poured from his body and she was set ablaze in an explosive fire of passion.

Then as suddenly as it began, he lifted his head, ending the kiss. She made a sound of dismay, her eyelids reluctantly fluttering open. He gazed on her, his eyes glazed, his pupils dilated.

"You would tempt Hades to leave hell forever," he whispered raggedly.

Blair slowly awoke from the haze of desire he had spun around her and reality dawned. She realized she had no idea how long they had been together, how much time had passed. Her mother would be looking for her and she couldn't be caught like this in the garden, not with him. What lunacy had possessed her to agree to this encounter?

Feelings of shame, confusion and guilt overwhelmed her. This was not her, passion like this would only lead to danger.

"I…I must go."

"Wait." His arm reached out for her and she stepped away.

Turning, she fled from him as fast as she could, back to the safety of the ballroom.

* * *

Edited by nondescriptf


	5. Chapter 5

"Madame Shrewsbury's floral shop**,** then home," Chuck said to his groomsman before climbing into his carriage.

Casting one last frustrated look at the Waldorf residence, he settled into the padded black leather seat. Since the masquerade ball, he had called on Blair three times only to be turned away at the door. He knew Lady Waldorf disapproved of him, but he had hoped Blair would convince her mother to at least let him in. Especially after the kiss they had shared at the masquerade ball. Chuck had been kissing girls since he was a schoolboy, but never before had he felt the connection he did with Blair. The emotions she evoked in him, feelings he thought long since dead and buried, came to life in her presence. This mingling of pain and pleasure, while unsettling, was something he knew he couldn't walk away from.

The carriage swung into motion and he once more replayed their kiss from the other night. That ball and the kiss they shared seemed to haunt him. He dreamed of it every night. In his slumbers, the kiss grew fevered and frantic, the sweet innocence of it lost to passion. Pulling the neck of her gown down over her shoulder, his lips would follow the curve of her neck to the fluttering pulse in the hollow of her throat. Making a sound of pleasure**,** she would press closer to him, her hands grazing over his chest. Somehow her dress would fall to the ground in a heap**,** and his hands would be all over her silky skin. This was where he would wake up, tortured, hot and painfully aroused. Even now**,** just thinking about it**,** he felt fire leap in his belly and his body growing tight with need. His lack of control, this constant state of infatuation, disgusted him. He knew he was acting like a lovesick youth, but he needed to be near her if only to figure out how to end his obsession.

As the horses came to an abrupt halt in front of the floral shop**,** his groomsman jumped down from his perch on top of the carriage to open the door. Stepping out of his carriage, Chuck was greeted by the one person he did not want to see.

"Good afternoon, Nephew," Jack Bass drawled**.**

Chuck stopped in his tracks, his jaw tensing with annoyance at the sight ofhis uncle. "Jack," he returned with a short nod.

"I noticed you were coming from the direction of the Waldorf residence." Jack gave Chuck a pitying look. "Are they still ignoring your calls?"

"They appear to not be at home to visitors today," Chuck replied coolly.

"Ah," Jack paused for a moment, "Funny, I was received by Lady Waldorf just this morning.

He didn't want to ask, and he knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself. Chuck had to know. "Did you see Lady Blair?"

"What if I did?" Jack asked playfully.

Not wishing to fall prey to his uncle's games, Chuck masked his frustration with indifference. "I was curious to see if she enjoyed my flowers," he replied blandly.

"Flowers?" Jack frowned before returning, "What is your interest in Lady Blair? You seem unable to stay away from the lady."

"I don't see what business it is of yours."

Jack studied Chuck intently, a crafty gleam in his eyes**.** "Maybe not mine, but it certainly is Lady Waldorf's. We would both like to know your intentions towards Lady Blair."

Chuck ignored Jack's attempt to trap him by deftly changing the subject. "How was Lady Blair?"

"I didn't see her," Jack admitted.

Rivers of relief flowed through Chuck. While he had no evidence that his Uncle would sabotage his attempts to see Blair or influence her negatively towards him, the suspicion was still there. Jack was a pillar of respectability in society**,** and it was entirely possible that he would see it as his duty to keep his nephew from corrupting an innocent like Blair.

Jack tapped his cane idly on the cobblestone pavement. "I did, however, speak to Lady Waldorf**,** and she is most concerned by your continued attentions to her daughter."

"Concerns you no doubt helped along," Chuck replied grimly.

Giving Chuck a baleful look, Jack adjusted the rose that was tucked into the buttonhole of his suit coat. "How can I in good conscience ease her fears when your previous track record suggests that you plan to seduce Lady Blair and set her upin a nice house in Chelsea as your mistress**?** Surely you realize the uncomfortable position you have placed me in. Lady Waldorf is almost hysterical about your attentions to her daughter and**,** as your nearest relative, I am being held responsible for your behavior."

"That is a responsibility that has never particularly bothered you before."

"That isn't true. It has always greatly saddened me how you haven't let me into your life."

Chuck wanted to laugh at the rebuke in Jack's tone. His Uncle had done little to insert himself into Chuck's life**,** other than by lecturing him upon occasion about his lifestyle.

Jack took a step closer to Chuck, laying a hand on his sleeve. "Since we were children**,** I have tried to befriend you, but you have only ever pushed me away."

Chuck shook his arm off with annoyance, as unwanted memories from the past bubbled to the present.

Growing up as the only child of a Duke, Chuck had spent most of his childhood alone. While there had been other children on the Bass estate, he had been kept isolated because of his exalted position. His only contact with other children had been the monthly visits with his Uncle. For some reason**,** these never seemed to go well. Chuck always seemed to do or say the wrong thing, angering Jack.

"_I have a present for you," Chuck said shyly, presenting his uncle with his favorite toy, an entire boxed set of brightly painted metal soldiers complete with weapons and artillery. It was a peace offering from the last time Jack had visited and Chuck had somehow made him angry. _

_Jack took the box and dumped the contents to the floor, crushing the soldiers with his boot. "Why would I want your old toys? Do you think I am one of the village brats that need your charity? I may not be the heir, but I am a Duke's son__**,**__ too."_

Then there were the pranks Jack had insisted that they play. They would steal Cook's freshly baked pies, put snakes in Chuck's tutor's bed, let the cows out of the pen and drag the fresh laundry through the mud.

"_Remember, Chuck…this was all your idea," Jack said coldly. "If we get caught and you tell on me__**,**__ I will never play with you again. I will hate you forever."_

"_I'll never tell," Chuck would swear, because he didn't want his uncle to hate him, didn't want to be alone with no one to play with._

He never did confess the truth and was thereforepunished, locked in his room and his dinner taken away. His father would scold him, tell him what a disappointment he was. Sometimes, if he were lucky, his nurse would sneak him a snack and give him a quick hug, all the while mumbling about evil uncles.

When his grandparents were killed in a carriage accident, Chuck had tried to be there for Jack. After the funeral**,** he had gone to find him in the woods where he was hiding**; **bringing him the peppermints his father had given him the last time he went to London.

"_I'm sorry, Jack."_

"_I suppose I will have to live with you now," he said bitterly. _

_Chuck held out the peppermints for Jack to take one. "It won't be so bad. Think of the fun we can have together. "_

_Jack took a peppermint, popping it into his mouth. "You would say that." Even though his face was calm, his eyes cool, there was a note of frustration in his voice that he couldn't completely hide. _

_Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, Chuck tried to think of something to say that would cheer his uncle up, maybe even get him to see that things didn't have to be as bad as they seemed. Perhaps, if Jack spent time with him__**,**__ he would see how incredible it could be to enjoy the company of someone close to his own age. _

"_Maybe we could go riding today?" Normally Chuck didn't like to ride__**,**__ since he was still stuck on a pony and couldn't go as fast as Jack could on his Arabian. The whole experience always ended up demoralizing as Jack always wanted to race and Chuck could never compete. However, Chuck had been told by Arthur and his nurse to be kind to Master Jack now that his parents were dead__**,**__ so he was willing to do his part to make his uncle feel better. _

_Chuck's watched with horrified fascination as Jack's face grew white and taut, his eyes slanting into slits. His words seemed to somehow have pierced his __**uncle's**__ cool façade, unlocking emotions that simmered just below the surface. _

"_Don't you understand I don't want to be your friend? Why couldn't you have been the one that died?" Jack snarled. _

_Chuck's face crumpled at the cruel words. He wanted to run away and cry, but he was too old for such behavior anymore. To his surprise__**,**__ it was Jack that turned and fled, leaving him alone in the shadowed forest. _

With a small shake of his head, Chuck forced the memories back. "I remember things quite differently, Uncle."

Jack seemed taken aback by Chuck's answer**,** and a look of annoyance flashed in his eyes before they once more took on the guise of concern. "Seek your pleasures elsewhere than with Lady Blair. You will never be welcome in her home or her life."

Clutching his gold tipped walking stick tightly in his hand, Chuck willed himself to remain expressionless. "That remains to be seen."

"I don't think you understand. Your parties have made you a pariah to anyone respectable," Jack explained.

"There are others who have similar parties. The Earl of Summerville has monthly orgies at his huntinglodge yet he is received everywhere."

"Ah, but you have celebrated in style. There is no comparison. The drinking, opium, gambling and fornication…" Jack voice trailed off in horror.

Chuck cast a sardonic glance at his Uncle. "It amuses me that for**,** someone who has yet to actually attend one of my parties**,** you are so informed as to what takes place at them."

Jack seemed temporarily speechless as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly.

"If you will excuse me, I have some flowers to purchase." Chuck tipped his hat to his uncle and headed towards the door of the floral shop.

"That won't get you in the door of the Waldorfs," Jack called out after him.

Chuck deliberately ignored Jack, choosing instead to focus on which bloom would most appeal to Blair.

* * *

Chuck stared at the diamond necklace in its velvet case, lightly running his finger over the flawless stones. He longed to give it to Blair, to see it sparkling around her neck, a symbol to everyone that she favored and belonged to him. Unfortunately, most of society and her mother seemed to be conspiring to block his every attempt to be near her. He knew that it was only the masks they had adorned for the masquerade that had allowed him the opportunity to dance with her. If he was lucky**,** they might be able to exchange a word or two under her mother's watchful eye at the next ball, but he was quite certain he would never be able to get her alone in a garden again. His cause seemed all but hopeless.

"Thinking of Lady Blair again?" Arthur asked as he wheeled the tea tray into Chuck's dark, mahogany**-**paneled study.

Normally**,** Chuck would have snapped back something about servants minding their own business, but he didn't have the heart. Besides**,** it was true. He had been brooding about Blair most of the afternoon.

Frowning slightly at the darkness of the room, Arthur moved to the windows, pulling back the heavy drapes. "I take it your call on the Waldorfs did not go successfully?"

As the afternoon sunlight flooded the room, Chuck blinked at the brightness.

"They were not at home."

The elderly man nodded his head. "Oldest excuse in the book. "

Closing the jewel case with a snap, Chuck looked up at Arthur. "It could have been worse. At least they didn't ban me outright from calling again."

"They would never dare that, Your Grace." Running his white-gloved finger over the wooden windowsill, Arthur wrinkled his nose in distaste at the dust that appeared. "You are a Duke, and your lineage is nothing to sneer at. The Bass family was granted their title for service to the crown in 1197. There is not another family alive who can say that. The Waldorfs should think of that the next time they turn you away."

At the fierce tone in Arthur's voice, Chuck couldn't help the brief smile that played on his lips. Arthur had always been fanatical about the Bass family history, often spending hours with a young Chuck at his knee as he explained the deeds and exploits of the family ancestors. "You seem to forget, with the amount of black sheep the Bass family has produced and that bit of pirating we did in the 1600s**,** we shouldn't be received anywhere."

"A few black sheep and little pirating are essential requirements for every great family. With this new Queen, people seem to have so quickly forgotten their own dark pasts."

"Their dark deeds as well," Chuck murmured.

Arthur moved to the fireplace, removing the poker from its hook. "If only our good Queen knew of the evils you have seen committed by your own peers in their business practices."

Chuck wearily rubbed his temples as Arthur stabbed at the ashes and logs in the fire with the poker.

"Calling you a black sheep after all the good work you do. What are a few decadent parties between consenting adults compared to their actions and deeds?" Arthur turned from the fireplace to give Chuck a disapproving look before taking one last aggressive poke at the fire. "Not that I am in the least bit condoning your goings on, but maybe the Waldorfs and the rest of society need to be more informed on just who they are opening and closing their doors to."

This was the most Chuck had ever heard Arthur speak on the subject of his celebrations. He knew the elderly servant loathed his entertainments, but to hear him talk now in his defense touched Chuck. Looking down at his desk**,** he tried to ignore the lump that was even now growing in his throat.

Seemingly embarrassed at his little display, Arthur silently moved to the tea set and began arranging the tealeaves in the strainer. "Everything is ready for your gala on Saturday. The first shipment of port that arrived was of too early a vintage**,** so I sent it back to the shop for another. The grocer called today to let me know that the peaches you requested for your new champagne drink will not be available in time**,** and he wanted to know if you would like to chose a different fruit to showcase**.** What shall I tell him?"

Chuck couldn't believe he had completely forgotten there was a party scheduled for this weekend. It was the first time that had ever happened. While he would admit the parties had lost their appeal over the last year or so**,** he had still continued them. They had become such aroutine, almost like shaving, that he couldn't imagine not having them the second and fourth Saturday of the month. When his father had died, he had done nothing but try to erase the constant anguish and pain he felt with women, drink and drugs. He had given up the Ducal estate, not up to dealing with the challenge of his father's memory staring at him down from every corner. Instead of taking his rightful place in society now that his term at Oxford had ended**,** he had given over all Bass duties to his uncle.

To this day**,** he didn't remember how many months it had been that he had lost himself, but eventually he had come out of his haze and realized how near death he was. That was when the parties had started. It had been a way to control his fatalistic streak and contain his debauchery to one night twice a month. That was also when Arthur had slowly begun introducing pieces of his father's business into his life. Chuck had fought him at first, but eventually his curiosity had won out. In time, he had taken over his father's empire and begun expanding it.

It suddenly occurred to him that, having met Blair at his last party**, **he had only known the lady for a few days less than two weeks. In that short amount of time**,** she had thrown his entire world out of control and off balance. Instead of making him wish to run away or lose himself in a whole week of parties**,** he knew he wanted to meet this challenge head on. Only the entire world, including the lady herself, seemed to be conspiring against him.

Arthur's voice penetrated his reverie, "The peaches, Your Grace? What shall I tell the grocer?"

Not bothering to answer, Chuck moved towards the small bar in the room to pour a scotch, only pausing when Arthur cleared his throat in disapproval. Grabbing the whiskey bottle from the mirrored liqueur tray**,** he walked over to the tea things. "Even if I stop the parties, it will change nothing. To society and the Waldorfs, I will always be a black sheep."

Taking the bottle from Chuck, Arthur unscrewed the cap and poured out a dollop into the bone china teacup before adding the tea. "A black sheep can always be redeemed**,** and there is nothing society ladies love more then a reformed rake. You need only look to your own family tree to find evidence of this."

Returning to his desk once more, he set his tea down next to the necklace that still sat out. Pulling open the lower right drawer in his desk to once more put the necklace away, his eye was immediately drawn to the pile of news clippings that resided there. He had collected all the society articles that mentioned her name and every illustration that had been published of herover the last week and a half. He was sure Arthur must have thought him mad the other day when he caught him scissoring out a drawing of Blair at a charity event handing out fruit baskets. His eyes lingered over a fine line drawing that hardly did her justice. The sparkle in her eye, the steel that laced her voice when she was ruffled, just couldn't be duplicated on paper.

"What is the penalty for kidnapping these days?" He asked lazily as he closed the drawer on the necklace and newspapers.

Arthur swung his head around, the teapot abruptly hitting the tray with a clatter, overturning the sugar bowl. "Your Grace!"

"They leave me no choice. Even with her mother present**,** I am not allowed to call on her. Besides**,** it worked for the 8th Duke, Lucien Bass," Chuck replied with a careless shrug.

"I am not sure that Lady Elizabeth Forsythe**,** who was forced to marry him after that, would agree with you." Arthur carefully righted the sugar bowl, scraping the grains of sugar that had spilled to the side of the tray with the silver cover. "Your Grace, you do realize you cannot kidnap Lady Blair.

"It was a happy union**,** according to the existing records," Chuck returned, easily sidestepping the question.

"You will ruin her if you chose this course of action. No one will receive or recognize her. Unless that is your intent?"

"No," Chuck sighed. "I just want to be with her."

"For what purpose?" Arthur gently prodded. "Do you wish her to be your mistress?"

Chuck pounded the desk with his fist, his answer swift and immediate**.** "No."

"Why not? Every other woman you have ever wanted**,** you have just taken. Why is Lady Blair different?"

Chuck didn't know how to explain it. How could he**,** when he didn't understand it himself? With any other woman he had ever wanted**,** he had known that as soon as he got between their legs his itch would be scratched. With Blair, however, he wanted more than just a fuck. He wanted to worship every inch of her body, introduce her to pleasures her virginal mind could never have imagined, and he knew even then that wouldn't be enough. She challenged him like no one ever had and he was fascinated by the fierce, passionate creature that simmered beneath her cool layers of polite respectability.

"I want her, Arthur."

"There is only one option available to you if you wish to preserve her reputation and treat her honorably." Arthur looked up at him over the now tidy tea things. "You must convince her to let you court her."

Leaning back in his chair, Chuck let ideas, fast and furious flow through him. Instead of being led by his emotions**,** he treated his desire to court her as a business proposition. In freeing himself in this manner, he was able to weigh and calculate every possible option until at last he settled on a course of action. As the plan grew, he carefully plotted every response, every reaction she might have and an appropriate counter move that would get him ever closer to his goal and the ultimate reward.

Sitting up at last, he was surprised to see Arthur still standing in front of the tea things**,** a barely concealed look of worry in his kind eyes. "About the peaches?"

"Damn the peaches." Taking a deep breath, Chuck said the words he thought would never leave his lips. "Cancel the party."

"Cancel the party?" Arthur repeated.

"Yes. Cancel all the parties. Lady Blair would not approve."

"Of course, Your Grace. Right away, Your Grace," Arthur immediately answered, practically stumbling over the words as they left his mouth.

As Arthur wheeled the tea tray out of the study, Chuck pretended not to notice that his manservant paused to dance a little jig in the doorway before continuing his route back towards the kitchen.

* * *

Blair floated among the flowers that had been delivered that morning, gathering up the cards and notes that were attached. Pausing over a huge bouquet of hydrangeas**,** she was instantly attracted to their fresh scent. As she reached down to pull the card**,** she noticed that the flowers were arranged in a beautiful porcelain Sevres vase. Opening the card**,** she was instantly struck by the bold signature of Charles Bass followed by his title and coat of arms. In a flurry of movement**,** she crossed the room to the small writing desk. The audacity of that man to think he could court her even as he boldly searched for a new mistress at the masquerade ball. She had no doubt that would have been the direction of their conversation if she had stayed in the garden after their kiss. Yanking a piece of fine linen stationary out of the drawer of the writing desk**,** she tried not to think of his kiss, how he had set her whole body on fire, creating a desire within her she had not known existed.

Finding an ink pen, she considered how best to warn him away and tell him his attentions were unwelcome and that she would not be played with in this manner. As she addressed the letter, a vision of his face instantly materialized in her mind. His dark and beautiful eyes gazing on her intently**;** the curve of his lips as they twisted into a smirk; the lock of hair that was forever falling over his forehead.

Her heart sped up in her chest, color rushing into her cheeks as she revisited every one of their interactions. This desire of hers, this attraction**,** was entirely unwanted and unacceptable. She had to put an end to it at once, she firmly decided. What she didn't understand was**,** if she was to be attracted and drawn to anyone, why did it have to be him? The man should disgust her. He was everything she despised. Yet here she was**,** thinking of him. She should be ashamed of herself. It really shouldn't be so hard to rid him from her mind. All she needed to do was think of last night, the way he had openly searched for a mistress. He no doubt had dozens of women he was currently involved with, women he kissed passionately and made love to.

An ugly feeling developed in her gut**,** and she knew an anger she had never felt before. It unsettled her, made her feel out of control and**,** **t**hough she tried to smother the sensation**,** it wouldn't go away. Was this what jealousy felt like? Why did she care whom he was kissing when he meant nothing to her? He hadn't cared or even thought about her when he kissed Persephone the other night. Thank goodness he had pulled away from their kiss for a few seconds so she could regain her senses. Although she was certain that**,** in time**,** she would have been the one to push him away. Unfortunately**,** the inner voice in her head seemed to disagree with her. With disgust**,** she tried to quiet it by thinking of how best to word her letter to that damned devil. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts**,** and she jumped to her feet in surprise.

"Come in," she said breathlessly.

Vanya slid open the pocket door. Entering the drawing room**,** he presented her with a silver tray on which rested a calling card.

Blair lifted the card and her heart spun dizzily in her chest. What could he possibly be doing here? What did he want from her?

Looking at her strangely, Vanya waited for an answer. When none was forthcoming, he uncomfortably cleared his throat. "Are you at home for the caller, my Lady?"

Her first instinct was to say no, but with further thought**,** she realized that this might be this best way to end her association with him forever. Surely he couldn't refuse a polite request from her in person? She knew her mother wouldn't approve. Eleanor had sent the message they weren't at home every time Charles Bass had called. This time was different**,** Blair rationalized to herself. She was only seeing him to ensure that he never called again

"You may show His Grace in," she replied at last.

As Vanya left to usher in the Duke**,** she stepped out from behind the writing desk and**,** bracing herself**,** she locked all of her feelings deep within her. As her hands automatically went to smooth her hair back, she mentally kicked herself. She shouldn't care what she looked like.

"His Grace, Duke of Alverstoke," Vanya announced. With a formal bow, he waited for the Duke to enter the room, before exiting.

Blair swallowed as Chuck entered the drawing room. He was immaculately dressed**,** as always. His grey morning suit accentuated his long**,** lean body perfectly. The spray of hydrangeas pinned to his lapel matched the purple vest he wore, creating an elegant combination that even she could appreciate.

He sauntered towards her with a predatory grace**,** and she felt a flutter in her stomach that she tried to ignore.

"My, Lady," he murmured as he lifted her hand to his mouth.

As his lips grazed her bare fingertips, she felt the touch all the way down to her toes. Feeling her blood spark through her veins**,** she was grateful that he had never before kissed her without her gloves on. As his mouth lingered over her hand, the molten heat of his lips seemed to brand her and she almost swayed on her feet. A touch that was supposed to be respectable morphed into one of undeniable passion.

"Why are you here?" Blair asked in a strangled voice. "It is a bit early for afternoon calls."

"I realize that, but I knew this was the only time I would get a chance to be alone with you before your other callers."

"You don't have more then a few minutes. My mother is upstairs**,** and she will send you packing as soon as she realizes you are here," Blair replied in an almost defiant tone.

His gaze turned to one of amusement. "Your mother**,** along with Lady van der Woodsen and Lady Serena**,** is currently at Mademoiselle Cossette's dress shop."

Blair's eyes widened with fury. "You are having my home watched?"

"Not exactly. I just find it important to know my enemy."

"My mother is not your enemy," Blair huffed.

"She is if she keeps me from seeing you," Chuck answered smoothly.

Irritation at Chuck's audacity swirled inside of her. "My mother has nothing to do with whether I see you or not."

"The why is it when she is nowhere to be found you choose to receive me, but when I call and she is in residence I am turned away?"

Called out on her lie, Blair was left temporarily speechless. "Today is different," she said at last**,** with a pout. "I chose to see you because I need to tell you that your courtship, your gifts, your very presence is unwelcome."

Instead of being angry, Chuck smirked at her as if he were dealing with a mischievous and naughty kitten. "You don't mean that."

Arranging her features into a cool mask, she forced all of her emotion out of her voice. "I most certainly do."

"If that is truly the case, then you must at least hear me out before casting me out of your life for good."

"What is it you need to say?" Blair asked, trying not to sound as curious as she felt.

"Won't you invite me to sit?"

Flushing slightly at her lack of manners, Blair indicated the wing-backed chair. "Won't you have a seat?"

Instead**,** he chose the settee arranged cozily in the middle of the seating arrangement.

"Join me?" It was a command not a question and**,** before she could think about refusing**,** she sat next to him.

"So what is it you wished to speak to me about?" Blair was proud that her tone was cool and even, completely at odds with how ruffled she felt.

"First**,** I wish to give you something," Chuck said almost shyly. Removing a long narrow box from the inside pocket of his suit coat, he offered her the gift.

Blair considered refusing, but she had never had the willpower to resist a gift. As she reached out to take the box from him**, **her fingers touched his ungloved hand and her body grew heated and warm. Untying the dark purple ribbon that held the white box together, she slowly drew the top off. A delicate fan was nestled among the tissue paper. The sticks were made of ivory and set with semi-precious stones and as she flicked the fan open**,** she couldn't stop the sound of pleasure that fell from lips. The silk between the ivory sticks was painted with multi-colored butterflies in flight.

Chuck looked at her anxiously. "You are pleased."

"Yes," she murmured thickly.

"I wanted to give you diamonds, but you said you would prefer a gift that reminded your suitor of you. Butterflies always make me think of you."

Blair looked at Chuck dazedly. "I don't understand. When did I say that?"

With a finger, he gently reached out to tenderly caress the curve of her cheek.

"Last night at the masquerade," Chuck answered softly. "You were dressed as Persephone."

The fan dropped from her hands and fell to the floor. She was going to faint. It wasn't possible. How could he have known it was her?

Chuck watched in growing alarm as the color drained from Blair's face. This visit wasn't going as he had planned at all. She obviously hadn't known it was he that had kissed her in the gardens. He had been so sure she had known it was him. Who else would have dared to dress as the devil? Even as his heart ached at the revelation, he was gripped with jealousy at the thought that she would have allowed someone else to kiss her.

He studied her as she slowly blinked, as if the world was finally coming back into focus. Gazing at her face**,** he couldn't help but be distracted by the emotions she aroused in him. Even in his anger and frustration**,** he was tempted to trap her on the settee and kiss her senselessly until the only word she knew was his name.

"How did you know it was me?" Her voice was almost a whisper.

"The graceful way you walk, the way your eyes sparkle, your smile…" He stopped speaking, afraid that he had revealed too much.

Blair shook her head**,** and he was afraid that she was dismissing him and his words, something he couldn't let her do. He reached for her hand**, **but it slid out of his grasp as she rose and walked over to the window. His eyes lowered to the floor where his gift lay forlorn and forgotten on the tapestried carpet. A lump arose in his throat as he lifted it up and placed it back in its box. She stood silent for a long time and**,** just when he was afraid that all was lost**,** she spoke.

"When did you realize Persephone was me?" Blair asked hesitantly.

His first reaction was to lie. To hurt her the way he was now hurting. It almost destroyed him that she hadn't known who he was, hadn't recognized his kiss. He knew to tell her the truth would deviate from every game of seduction he had ever played. In the past he had always kept his paramours guessing, never letting them know where they stood with him. This feeling of unbalance had allowed him all the power in the relationship, something that never failed to yield him what he desired. With Blair**,** the rules were different and everything had changed. For the first time he felt a compulsion to be honest, to take only what was freely given to him. This weakness in him repulsed and tormented him all at once, yet he had to answer her honestly. He had a strange feeling that to do otherwise would push her even further away.

Rising from the settee, Chuck joined Blair at the window, standing directly behind her. Gazing down at her upswept hair, he noticed she wore his jeweled butterfly pins and this small act of hers gave him courage. His eyes lowered to the tendrils that escaped her chignon and curled teasingly over the nape of her neck all the way down to the tiny pearl buttons of her dress. He had to clench his hands at his sides to keep from freeing those precious pearls from their prisons.

"From the beginning, I knew it was you. I could never…. not know you," he rasped. His finger lifted a loose curl, rubbing the silk between his thumb and forefinger.

She inhaled sharply, almost leaning into his touch**,** and he knew he had won. As her body went perfectly still, he knew she was anticipating his next touch and he relished this bit of control. Slowly his thumb slid down over the side of her neck and**,** when she trembled at the caress, he lowered his lips over her ear. "I always knew it was toyou I spoke." Chuck's hands skimmed the sides of her tiny waist, pulling her tight against him. "You I waltzed with." He pressed tiny kisses along the curve of her neck. "And most importantly…you I kissed."

As Blair leaned back in his arms, her body succumbing to his touch, he smiled against her skin. Breathing deeply of her fragrant scent, a combination of gardenia and freesia, he realized he was in danger of losing himself in her. She was the one thing that could make him forget his demons, the darkness that rested heavily over him. He craved her, desired her and wanted her all to his own, but did she deserve such a fate? To forever be bound to Lucifer?

With a growl**,** he turned her to face him, ignoring the gasp that escaped her. Lowering his head, his mouth swooped down to capture hers in a searing kiss. He sought to dominate her, force her to recognize him, but when his lips touched hers he realized that he was the one being mastered. With a groan**,** he lifted his head and pulled away from her.

She stared at him, her face flushed and her eyes wide. For a second**,** he thought he saw a look of disappointment slide across her face before she once more resumed her haughty mask.

Suddenly it occurred to him that if she hadn't thought it was him she was kissing**,** there must be someone else. Someone whose kisses she craved besides his own. "Who was it you thought you kissed?" He wasn't at all proud of the almost desperate tone in his voice.

Smoothing the folds of her gown she walked towards the writing desk. "It is none of your business," she answered shortly.

"Blair—"

She looked up at him angrily. "I haven't given you permission to use my given name."

"Considering the intimacies that have passed between us**,** I think given names are entirely appropriate." He couldn't help the way his lips curled into a smirk. "Please, call me Chuck."

"Your Grace, the other night I made the mistake of allowing myself to be tempted by the devil. An error in judgment that I can guarantee will not happen again."

Her stern voice made it quite clear she had known exactly whom she had been kissing**,** and his heart danced with joy. She had flirted with him, danced with him, kissed him all of her own accord. This gave him hope that she would be tempted by the proposition that he had for her.

"My lovely Lady Blair, having had a taste of sin**,** you will find that you will want to sin again and again."

Blair shot him an icy glare that would have sent another man running for the door in fear, but for him all it did was increase his desire for her.

"This association between us cannot continue, Your Grace."

"That is what I wished to see you about before we got distracted," he replied, his eyes pointedly trailing over her face to rest on her swollen lips.

A quick breath of air escaped her and her cheeks colored the loveliest shade of pink**,** and he wished nothing more then to gather her in his arms once more. But he couldn't think of that now, not when his entire future depended on her agreement to his proposition.

"I think it is time to for you to leave, Your Grace." Her very polite tone told him exactly where she wished him to go.

Returning once more to the settee, Chuck took a seat. "Not until you hear me out. I have a proposition for you, one that I think you will find very interesting."

As her eyes narrowed**,** he could see her always-calculating mind debating the merits of having him thrown out or hearing out his proposal. Knowing her curiosity would win out, Chuck settled more comfortably on the settee, drawing his long legs out in front of him.

With a resigned shake of her head**,** she gathered her skirts around her primly and perched on the edge of one of the wingback chairs. Looking down her nose at him disdainfully, she spoke, "You have five minutes."

"As you are all to aware, my reputation is not one of which a gentleman would brag about."

Blair opened her mouth as if to make a sarcastic comment**,** and Chuck lifted his finger to interrupt her and allow him to continue. "I have very recently realized that**,** because of this**,** I am not welcome at society events. In fact, I would go so far as to say that most of the ton has turned their back on me," he said, unable to keep a cynical note out of his tone.

"What do you expect, Your Grace, when you have almost weekly parties devoted to every form of debauchery there is? Did you really expect society to look away, to pretend such hedonism does not exist?"

"Why not," he offered with a shrug. "They pretend that true crimes such as children being forced to labor in factories, mines and the sex trade don't exist. "

He knew his words sunk in by the way she bit her lower lip, her eyes clouding over. "We are not blind to such atrocities."

"Yet the ton, society, does nothing to stop these atrocities."

"What would you have me do?" Blair asked quietly.

"You, nothing," he replied, not bothering to hide the hint of scorn in his voice. It was an enormous undertaking to end such abuses. It had been nearly impossible to move his investments out of businesses that used such tactics. In many cases**,** he had ended up forcing reform by threatening to cut off access to the Bass millions. The problem of children under the age of ten forced to labor in adult jobs was a national problem**,** and one that needed to be recognized.

He noted the surprise that flitted across her face before she covered it up by gazing down at her gown. "What is it you want from me, Your Grace?"

"I need an introduction to society. Someone who can help me navigate the social intricacies of the haut ton," he replied simply.

"What made you think to come to me? As a mere debutante**,** I have no influence as to how you are received," she scoffed.

"That is where you are wrong," Chuck answered with a patient voice. "With your name, wealth and respectable reputation**,** you are exactly what I need."

Her eyes sharpened with suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"In order to be accepted and received**,** I need to be seen as a good match. There is nothing that will prove that more than to have Lady Blair Waldorf, the symbol for all that is respectable, agree to be courted by me." He watched her anxiously to see if she would take the bait and step into his trap.

"You wish to court me?" She asked with confusion.

"Yes, but in name only."

"I see." A slight frown appeared between her brows. "I am not sure how you think that can help you."

"Even you must be able to see how my aligning myself with you will stand to my benefit**.** Your pristine white reputation cancels out the darkest soot in mine," Chuck explained.

"Even if that were true**,** why would I agree to such an alliance? What is there to gain for me?" She asked sharply.

Chuck had always sensed she was clever, cleverer then society had ever given her credit for**,** and now to his delight he realized she was self-serving as well. Which is why he was trying to be so very careful in how he presented his offer. He pretended to consider her question before answering, "Maybe just for the challenge**,** to see if you could do it? To see if you were powerful enough that**,** with your reputation alone**,** you could bring me into fashion."

She looked unconvinced.

"How about this**,** then. Can you imagine the power you would yield over society if you could reform Lucifer? To bring the Duke of Alverstoke back from the brink of Hell with only your beauty and charm," he cajoled.

Chuck knew from the look in her eyes that she was waging an inner battle, but he had appealed to her vanity. He was not only tempting her with a chance to spend more time with him**,** but he was offering her a chance at infamy. Watching the play of emotions across her face, knowing that he was so close to getting what he wished **–** unfettered access to her at all social events **– **excited him in a way nothing else ever had.

"I suppose there is a certain cachet to be had in bringing you to your knees," she conceded, a small smile playing over her lips.

"Such an accomplishment to your name would make you shine as no debutante ever has. "

Her eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn't quite decipher**,** and he wondered if he had overstepped in some way. Just as he was about to change tactics, she shook her head slightly as if she had come to a great decision.

"Fine, I agree. Society has been a bit lacking lately. This should prove interesting," Blair said airily as if the whole thing meant nothing to her.

"Shall we seal the deal then?" He leaned forward in his chair towards Blair and his gaze centered on her full ripe lips and sensual mouth.

She leaned forward, sucking in a slight breath before asking, "How would you suggest we do so?"

It was obvious she was all but begging for a kiss, and while he wanted nothing more then to grant her wish, he knew that to disappoint her now would grant him leverage later. "I would suggest a kiss**,** but that wouldn't exactly fit with our new business arrangement. A handshake instead?" He smiled inwardly at her look of disappointment.

She held out her slim white hand and he accepted it, wrapping his long elegant fingers around hers. If he held her hand just a little longer then was needed, luxuriating in the touch of her silken skin, she did not comment on it.

Rising he headed out towards the door, but she stopped him, gently laying her fingertips on his shoulder.

"What of the fan? Do you wish it back since this isn't a true courtship?" She asked, gazing almost reluctantly on the box that still sat on the settee.

"Any gifts you receive are yours to keep."

She nodded in acceptance, but still her eyes looked almost troubled. A slow fission of fear slowly crept through him, his heart growing stiff and cold. Blair was going to call off the entire affair, ruin all of his carefully laid plans. He was never to get a chance at capturing this shining, sparkling creature. She was to remain forever just out of his reach like the sun to the moon. He waited in torture, seconds passing like hours as he waited for her to say what was so obviously on her mind. When she at last started to speak**,** he almost forgot to breathe.

"Why exactly are you so concerned about rejoining society**?** You never cared before." While her tone was disinterested, her eyes spoke differently.

She was playing right into his hands**,** and he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Chuck knew he was smiling like a fool, but he couldn't help it. "It is the least I could do for the woman I wish to marry."

With those words**,** he turned and left in triumph. He had won. Even now as he entered the foyer**,** he knew she stood and watched him in shock.

Accepting his hat, cane and gloves from Vanya**,** he began plotting the next step in the complete seduction of Lady Blair Waldorf.

* * *

Ever since the Duke of Alverstoke had left, Blair had worn a small path in the carpet as she paced the drawing room floor. His parting words had left her unsettled in a way she had never felt before. It seemed as if the world had been tipped on its axis and those things that had been quite logical before were now rendered upside down. That one man could affect her so greatly was troubling**;** that it was Lucifer was absolutely disturbing. Why did she care that he planned to marry? That was what men did**,** after all. No, it couldn't be the marriage part that so greatly affected her. She certainly didn't wish to marry him**,** and the stolen kisses they had shared meant nothing to her. Well, that wasn't strictly true. She had felt something, but surely that tingling, those heavenly fireworks**,** was what happened with every kiss. That is why such intimacies were so strictly forbidden to unmarried couples.

No, what had to bother her was the fact that he had seemed to use her. He had kissed her, attempted to seduce her at the masquerade**,** and now here he was asking her help in a scheme to hoodwink all of society into thinking he had reformed. All so he could convince the woman he wished to marry that he was respectable. The whole thing was infuriating. How dare he think he could use her favors, her good graces, to lift himself out of the muck he had mired himself in? She would tell him when next she saw him the scheme was off. She would have no part in his pursuit of some other female. Her nails curled tightly into the folds of her dress as she imagined the type of woman he had probably chosen as his bride. Most likely a simpering dolt with golden hair and china doll features. With a frustrated sound**,** she threw herself down on the settee.

Her gaze fell to the delicate silk butterfly fan, and a small frown puckered her smooth brow. His gifts, his handwritten note on fluttering, none of it made sense if he was attempting to woo another. Why would he court her so assiduously, if he loved or wished to marry someone else? None of it was necessary. She had thought the night before he wished for a mistress, that he didn't know who she was. But now, by his own words and actions, he had proven that he had known she was Persephone. His speech, the way he had talked of Hades and his love and desire for the spring goddess**,** now seemed to be more then just mere flirtation. Could he have spoken truthfully of his feelings at the masquerade when masks and costumes had blurred the appearance of reality? With a sigh, she realized how ridiculous such a notion was. The truth was most likely that this was all a great game to him. Well, if he were to use her to gain his society bride, she would use him to get her Prince. With a heavy heart, she lifted the fan, gently spreading the delicate sticks to peer at the painted silk and the butterflies that so elegantly lifted their colorful wings on the white background. Like the hairpins in her hair, this gift was exquisite.

As she recognized her mother's voice amid the sudden clicking of multiple sets of heeled boots in the foyer, Blair quickly restored the fan back to its leather nest. She wasn't quite ready yet to share this newest treasure. Especially when she knew her mother would only see those fluttering butterflies as the damning evidence she needed to squash any and all interaction with the Duke. This was something Blair could not allow, especially when faced with the enigma of Chuck Bass and his parting words. There was just time enough to shove the fan box in the folds of her skirt before the paneled mahogany doors were opened by Vanya.

"Blair, please tell me you did not receive the Duke of Alverstoke alone and un-chaperoned," Eleanor exclaimed as she strode into the drawing room.

The question was rhetorical and it was useless to even begin to lie to her mother. Blair had no doubt that Eleanor had already grilled Vanya on the exact amount of time Chuck Bass had been present and in her company.

"I did," she replied quietly.

"How could you? Especially without Lily or I present to protect you?"

"I hardly think he would have attempted seduction with Vanya just outside the door," Blair answered, her cheeks pinking slightly as she recalled the ease with which she had eagerly succumbed to his touch. Just the memory of those delicate kisses he had skimmed along the side of her neck and ear was enough to leave her hot and flustered. She felt her mother's calculating gaze on her**,** and she sought to calm her raggedly beating heart.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Eleanor said grimly. "The man has no scruples if he thinks nothing of continuing his call even after realizing you were un-chaperoned."

"I told him you were upstairs," Blair replied, trying to hide any signs of guilt at her omission of his knowledge that she has been very much alone.

With a sigh of relief, her mother seated herself next to her. "I should have known you would show such good sense. Forgive me my recriminations. I just worry about you being placed in a situation that could potentially get out of control and disadvantage you**.**"

Blair lowered her eyes. "You shouldn't worry so much. I can take care of myself."

Eleanor patted her daughter's hand gently. "I will always worry. You are my only daughter and your wellbeing and welfare are my highest concern. With your father gone, it lays on me to be your protector and strongest advocate."

A veil of sadness shadowed Blair at the thought of her father. Reaching out**,** she clasped her mother's hand in hers. "Father would be so proud of you. I couldn't ask for a more caring or devoted mother. I know you always have my best interests at heart." It was true. While her mother's overprotective ways sometimes left her feeling as if she were slowly suffocating**,** Blair knew it was love that prompted them.

Her mother seemed to relax into the settee, her shoulders softening just the slightest at her daughter's words.

"What exactly was the purpose of the Duke of Alverstoke's call?" Eleanor inquired with a long-suffering sigh.

Blair hesitated in her answer as she carefully considered the minefield she was about to navigate. If she wished for her mother's permission at all in her endeavor to decipher Chuck and his cryptic words**,** she was going to have to broach their agreement delicately.

"Blair, I heard you had a caller," Lily said playfully as she glided into the room with Serena in tow. Instead of joining Eleanor and Blair in the small seating area**,** she headed towards the bouquets of flowers.

"Yes, the Duke of Alverstoke." Relief swept through Blair at the appearance of Lily and her friend. Not only was she going to be given a few more minutes to try and formulate an answer to her mother's question, she was hopeful that Serena and Lily would take up her cause. "How was the visit to the dressmaker?"

Serena grimaced as she curled into one of the wingback chairs across from Blair. "Painful."

"Were you overwhelmed again by the numerous shades of off-white?" Blair asked with a laugh.

"How can there possibly be so many? Ecru, beige, taupe, biscuit, oatmeal, sand… I can't even remember all of them," Serena whined. "But that wasn't the worst part. It was painful, literally. They had a new shop assistant**,** and she kept poking me with dress pins during the fitting. "

A sound of pleasure from Lily interrupted Blair and Eleanor's laughter. Lily lifted up a bouquet of hydrangeas from the pile of flowers she had been rifling through. "Did you see this, Eleanor? Charles Bass sent his flowers in a Sevres vase. I have never seen that done before. What a delightful and thoughtful gesture."

Eleanor's face took on a decidedly worried air as she turned her gaze to Blair. "Just what was the nature of the Duke's call? His gifts are far too extravagant and his interest too marked for that of a casual suitor. It is most inappropriate."

"I think we have misjudged the Duke's interest in me," Blair answered uncomfortably. "It seems that there is a purpose behind his attentions that has little to do with attraction or courtship."

"What does that mean?" Eleanor asked sternly

Blair picked her words carefully. "The Duke wishes to re-enter polite society**,** and he believes that in publicly courting me**,** he can salvage his reputation."

Eleanor gave her daughter a look of bewilderment. "Why now? Why you?"

"As for why he has chosen me, I am unsure, but he mentioned that his reason was that he wished to marry." The burning, bitter sensation in the pit of her stomach at the mention of Chuck's possible marriage caught Blair off guard and she tried to ignore it as Lily, Serena and Eleanor stared at her in surprise.

Lily, finding her voice, stepped away from the floral bouquets and sank into one of the chairs. "Well, it is understandable that he would choose Blair. She is, after all, considered one of the reigning debutantes**,** and she is well known for her leadership in Girls Incorporated." Lily paused to shoot Serena a rueful glance. "And, unlike my daughter, she is well known for her decorum. Plus, I have often heard her name being used as an example for which other young ladies should aspire to.**"**

A look of pride brightened Eleanor's face. "It is true. Blair's reputation is impeccable."

"Lucifer wishes to marry. I wonder what incident could possibly have prompted this decision."

Blair frowned at Serena's playful tone. If she weren't seated across from her**,** she would have kicked her best friend in the shin.

"Well, he will need to find someone else to polish his reputation. I will not have Blair singled out in this fashion," Eleanor said firmly. "The nerve of that man to approach you so. His lack of manners is appalling. I hope he behaved courteously."

"The gentleman was not raised in a barn, Eleanor," Lily countered. "I am sure Bartholomew Bass taught his son well. He was raised as the heir to a Dukedom."

"That certainly doesn't explain his past behavior," Eleanor sniffed.

"Past," Lily emphasized the word. "Behavior."

"He was a perfect gentleman," Blair rushed to assure her Mother. She tried not to dwell on her own very un-ladylike behavior, how she had blatantly yearned for more of his kisses.

Her quick rebuttal caused Eleanor to look searchingly at her daughter. "I am pleased that he managed to behave out of character and like the Duke he is."

Lily smiled softly. "I think it is quite admirable of him that he has chosen this path and that he has been so wise as to pick Blair as his mentor. His father would be so pleased."

"There is nothing to be admired here, Lily," Eleanor argued. "Charles Bass walked away from his birthright and his duties without a thought. It is only now that he has realized that his choices have made it impossible for him to make a respectable match that he is seeking to change his ways. It leaves one to wonder if this change he plans to make is only temporary and a way to guarantee that his proposal is accepted. Who is to say that once he has his highborn wife he won't return to his familiar degenerate lifestyle?"

"There are no guarantees, of course," Lily agreed reluctantly. "But I think perhaps you are being too hard on the gentleman. For him to have approached your daughter so honorably about his intentions and ask for her help shows an honesty that I can appreciate. He can't be unaware of the scrutiny and talk his re-entry into society it going to cause. One would think that if he were truly the debauched libertine he is supposed to be**,** he wouldn't even bother with this farce. He would just purchase a wife from one of the lower classes."

Eleanor lifted her head, giving Lily one of her trademark forbidding stares. "It must be easy to be so generous and forgiving when it isn't your daughter's reputation that is at risk."

"True. It seems, at last, there is a benefit to Serena's hoydenish behavior," Lily replied with a helpless shrug.

Blair bit back a smile as Serena sighed theatrically and rolled her eyes. Having closely followed the discourse between her mother and Lily, Blair was left even more confused as to what Chuck's motivations in wishing to court her were. She just knew that if she were ever to get at the truth and find out what game he was playing**,** she would need the opportunity to spend time with him. The problem was how to broach the subject without raising her mother's suspicions. She had hoped that Lily's soft spot for the Duke would have convinced Eleanor, but from the stern look on her mother's face**,** she now knew otherwise.

"I think a short note is best. Make it clear that you are not interested in being a party to his scheme and that while you will not cut him publicly**,** you no longer welcome his advances or his attentions." Eleanor's tone was final as she rose to her feet.

Panic slowly tightened its way around Blair's throat. Clutching Chuck's gift through the silk of her gown, Blair sought the courage to speak up. As the silence grew and she watched Eleanor move towards the writing desk**,** she knew that time was slipping through her fingers faster than sand in an hourglass. She needed to speak now or resign herself to a lifetime of wondering about those fluttering butterflies. Before she could even think of the repercussions of her words, they rushed from her lips. "The Duke is willing to make a sizeable donation to Girls Incorporated in return for my help."

Eleanor slowly turned around. "The Duke is aware of your involvement in Girls Incorporated?"

"Yes, he said it was one of the reasons he chose me to help him." Blair kept her voice steady and her gaze firmly on her mother, giving no sign of the turmoil that resided deep within her at her lies.

"You can hardly turn him away now, Eleanor," Lily said, her mouth curling into a smile.

Serena piped up, "Isn't one of the tenants of Girls Incorporated the importance of forgiveness and second chances?"

Blair smiled gratefully at her friend. "It is one of the core principles that Lady Archibald teaches."

"I'm sure Chuck Bass was not what the founders of Girls Incorporated had in mind when they formed the foundation," Eleanor replied with a taut smile.

Lily clapped her hands with pleasure. "I can't wait to tell Lady Archibald the good news. She will be so thrilled to have her favorite charity receive such a gift from the Duke of Alverstoke."

At Lily's words, Blair turned to look at her. "I can't guarantee the amount, or even when the donation can be expected." She thought for sure her friend's mother would see through her lies or question her further, but Lily just smiled, her eyes dancing merrily.

"I shall refrain mentioning the matter to Lady Archibald until you have had a chance to address it with the Duke," Lily replied

Eleanor looked almost helplessly at Blair, Lily and Serena before heading over to the writing desk and removing a carefully folded letter. "Lord Cary wrote to me this morning. His nephew, Prince Louis Grimaldi is set to arrive in London within days. Because of this**,** I don't see how you can possibly accommodate the Duke."

A flurry of emotions swept through Blair. She was uncertain exactly how she felt about this news. Part of her was excited to have such a personage like the Prince interested in meeting her**,** and another part felt trapped like a bird flapping its wings against the bars of a gilded cage.

"Surely there is no reason the Duke can't court her at the same time?" Lily asked with an almost pitying glance at Blair.

"I can't imagine what Prince Grimaldi will think when he finds the woman that has been singled out for him is entertaining another man," Eleanor said, waving the letter from Lord Cary in the air for effect. "Who knows when Blair will have such an opportunity again? This is her moment."

"Maybe he will realize that he is not the only one who sees my value, that I haven't spent my life waiting for a chance to have a Prince recognize my worth," Blair countered. She couldn't believe the almost defiant quality in her words, but it was almost as if her mother was suggesting that her success in life was entirely dependent upon the Prince's good opinion.

Eleanor looked like she had been struck. "Blair, I never…" her voice trailed off.

Lily smoothly interrupted, "Personally, I think having a suitor such as the Duke will only enhance Blair's allure. Think of it, Eleanor. With her beauty and charm**,** she has managed to enchant London's most dissolute gentleman, dragging the devil from his lair so to speak.**"**

"This is your desire, Blair? To spend time with this gentleman and let him falsely woo you?" Eleanor asked softly.

Blair felt her mother's gaze rest heavy on her**,** and she hesitated before speaking. "The Duke of Alverstoke asks only to court me, something which I have never denied any of my other suitors. Since his attentions are only temporary**,** I feel that we can serve each other. I can help ease his way back into society**,** and he can ensure that my name is on everyone's lips when Prince Grimaldi arrives. I want the Prince to see that I am not the average simpering debutante."

"With the Duke in Alverstoke courting you**,** I don't think you need fear that," Eleanor replied with a long-suffering sigh.

"I have your consent**,** then?" Blair asked smoothly, desperately trying to contain the happiness that bubbled through her.

"If this is what you think will further your cause the most with the Prince, I defer to your judgment," Eleanor said tightly.

At her mother's words, triumph and elation coursed through Blair. She wanted to shout with joy, to lift her skirts and dance a waltz, but instead she lowered her eyes to her lap modestly, her thumb lightly stroking the butterfly fan box through the folds of her dress.

"I think Blair is about to lead both the Prince Grimaldi and the Duke of Alverstoke a merry dance this season," Lily replied with a gleeful clap of her hands.

Eleanor stared glumly at Lord Cary's letter as she returned it to her writing desk. "Not too merry**,** I hope."

"So when does this faux courtship begin?" Serena asked Blair**,** with a huge emphasis on the word _faux_.

Catching sight of Serena's grin, Blair gave her one of her most severe looks. "We didn't set a specific date, but I thought we might receive him at our opera box this evening to show we approve of his attentions.

"That would be a lovely gesture," Lily said with a pleased sigh. "Then tomorrow at the de Lisle garden party**,** you could allow him to take you for a turn among the roses. What do you think, Eleanor?"

"As long as the Duke behaves himself and this courtship proceeds within the public eye, I can have no objections," Eleanor answered stiffly. "Please write to the Duke of Alverstoke and make clear that these are the requirements and that**, **if he is sincere in his motivations**,** he will agree to these terms. If not, then he can search out another family to use."

"I will do so at once." Eagerly rising to her feet, Blair was grateful to have been given an excuse to leave her mother's care. Carefully holding the butterfly fan tight within the folds of her gown so it couldn't be seen**,** she headed towards the door. As she left the room, she worried that in having won the battle to have Chuck in her life she might have lost more than she gained.

* * *

There are so many people that helped with this chapter. I need to thank nondescriptf, Poinsettia, Katie and Tati. A huge debt of gratitude is owed to Tati for her incredible beta work.

Thanks and love also goes to my wonderful reviewers: fanofstories, Trosev, gossipforever, Lalai, a, TerraBeth, comewhatmay.x, Zeeberg Little miss pixie-Alice cullen, mcdreamylover, pty, KillerNewton, CBBW3words8letters, louboutinlove, notoutforawalk, jamieerin, jsta, abelard, 24hrscout, VanillaNewYork, D R O W N-I N-S E Q U I N S, dyslin, CBfanhere, batgirl2992, Krism, libertine84, queen'scat Infinitywr, GoodGirl793, Alyssa, niinjjakiitten, Kate2008, The Very Last Valkyrie, Dulwich Said, Curious Blonde, iheartgray, hihigurly, lulubelle2010, cc744, ACocoNut, CBLove21, lisottina81, transiency lovegoods, flipped, jwoo2525, svenjen, Krazy4Spike, ilikeitrough, Krazy Once, wrighthangal, Marlashinee, ChairLoveK, LisaLevine, Lil Miss Chuckles, TriGemini, MegamiTenchi, Kensley-Jackson, dreamgurl, xoxochuckandblairxoxo, Bye11, D, , belle19 and Layla Waldorf-Bass.


	6. Chapter 6

Blair watched her mother covertly from under her lashes as they made their way towards the opera boxes. She knew Eleanor was not pleased at the way the night's events had unfolded. When Blair had sent her letter to the Duke of Alverstoke confirming their courtship, she had not expected him to reply, nor had she expected that he would also write to her mother inviting them to join him at the opera. She knew her mother would have refused if it weren't for Lily's insistence that they enjoy the gift, as the Bass box not only had the one of the best views of the theatre, but was also almost as large as the Royal opera box. Considering the size and location of the Waldorf box, Eleanor was forced to concede. She couldn't possibly turn down the gift when she had grumbled about these same issues the last time they had been to the opera. While the Waldorf family was wealthy and titled, the length of their lineage was hardly comparable to that of the Bass Family. And since opera boxes were passed down from one generation to the next, their chances of upgrading to a fancier one in the near future was almost impossible.

As her satin slippers sunk into the red plush carpet covering the marble floors, each step bringing her ever closer to Chuck, Blair couldn't help the flare of excitement that burst through her. She didn't know what to expect of this first meeting between them, but she certainly intended to carry out her half of their bargain. With her instruction and his obedience, there should be nothing standing in the way of his successful entry into society. That all of this effort was being expanded to find him a bride was a fact she tried not to dwell on.

Arriving at last at the Bass opera box, she searched the groups of people milling about the corridor for any sight of the Duke. The pang of disappointment she felt at not finding him present annoyed her to such an extent that she had to stop herself from stamping her foot in frustration. Her irritation with herself quickly turned into anger at him as she realized how futile rehabilitating his public image was going to be if he couldn't even be bothered to show up to the society events he had promised to attend. She was so caught up in thinking through the set down she was going to deliver when next they met, that she hardly noticed her companions stepping aside to greet several acquaintances. It wasn't until one of the ushers cleared his throat, clearly anxious to get her to her seat so he could help the next guests to theirs, that she realized she was alone. As he held the door open, Blair had no choice but to slip through the entrance.

Descending into the darkness of the box, her senses were immediately heightened. The curtains that faced the stage were closed shut, the only light available coming from the dim glow of a single gaslight sconce. She felt insulated against the world, cocooned in midnight-colored silk. Still unaccustomed to the dark, she held out one slim gloved hand as she sought to find her way to a opera chair. A small gasp escaped her lips as her hand was instantly caught in a firm grasp. Her eyes, slowly adjusting to the light, at last made out the shadowy figure before her. Charles Bass, The Duke of Alverstoke, stood next to her shrouded in shadows. She shivered slightly, whether in fear or excitement she wasn't quite sure, as her fingertips were lifted to his mouth. Eyes lowered, her gaze was drawn to the smooth angles and planes of his face and his deep glittering eyes. His lips lingered over her hand, not quite touching, and the seconds seemed to become minutes as the anticipation of his kiss became almost too much to bear. When at last his mouth pressed against the back of her glove, a delicious heat swirled through her. Shaken, she snatched back her hand as if it had been slapped.

"Blair." His low and husky voice brought to mind the sinful kisses they had shared in a moonlit garden.

"_Lady_ Blair," she threw back at him. "If you wish to make any headway in society, you must learn to use proper titles. One must never call a lady by her given name until one has been given permission to do so."

"Lady Blair." Instead of being rebuked, he drew the syllables out, almost mocking her.

Giving him a slight curtsey, she answered back primly, "Your Grace."

With a slow smirk, his eyes brazenly slid over the white silk of her dress until she felt as if it had been stripped away and she stood before him dressed in nothing but her chemise, crinoline and petticoats. "Perhaps you wish to compliment me on my gown?" She asked as sternly as she could.

"No, it is not the gown I wish to pay my respects to," he teased.

Blair drew herself up regally. "A gentleman should never ogle a lady in such a fashion. It is most demeaning."

"On the contrary, it is a sign of the utmost admiration for the female form. A lady should feel complimented to receive such a look."

"Perhaps in the world you are used to inhabiting." She wrinkled her nose at the thought of exactly what type of women he was used to consorting with. "But you are in polite society now and, if you must stare so, at least pretend it is the dress you are looking at."

He cocked his head to one side, the corners of his mouth twitching. "It is a lovely dress."

At his words, she smoothed the sleek fabric along the sides of her corseted waist. It was true. The delicate white silk tulle, its edges decorated with crimson roses, was one of her loveliest dresses.

"In fact, I do believe it is a Worth gown, and he is a genius for creating an ensemble that leaves so much to the imagination and yet manages to highlight every delectable line and curve of your form. I believe I owe the man a debt of gratitude for giving me such pleasure."

His words brought color to her cheeks, and she stumbled to find a proper rebuke to put him in his place. "You must learn to curb your tongue. You can't speak of such things, not if you wish to find a bride."

"I shouldn't like a bride who would not appreciate my compliments to her figure," he replied smoothly.

"Then perhaps you need to search for one among the lower and middle classes," she said disdainfully.

"To be my Duchess?" He asked with a laugh. "Society would eat her alive. No, I need to find a lady who has been raised to take on the role. Someone who is as beautiful as you are and who will blush just as prettily as you do when complimented," his voice deepened to a purr. "And one who kisses just like you."

Blair wanted to slap him for his impertinence. Even he, with all of his depravity, must know how improper it was to speak of kissing in polite conversation. To throw her indiscretions in her face was something only a cad would do. Yet he had called her beautiful, and she couldn't help the tingling pleasure that word gave her. She had been called that many times by various suitors, but it had never had the effect it did now. For some reason, coming from him, that single word took on a life all its own. That he, after all his considerable experience with women, should think she was beautiful made it almost believable.

As the sound of the orchestra playing one long and steady note filled the air, heralding the beginning of the opera, she quickly moved to the curtains of the box. She wasn't fast enough, though, and the door to the box swung open to reveal a very annoyed Eleanor with Lily and Serena in tow.

"Blair what are you doing in the dark with the Duke?" Her mother asked in a shrill voice.

"Lady Waldorf, Lady van der Woodsen, Lady Serena," Chuck greeted with a bow. "It is such a pleasure to have you join me this evening."

His display of proper manners brought color to Eleanor's cheeks, and she was forced to respond in kind. "Your Grace," she replied with a dignified curtsy.

Feeling guilty for being caught un-chaperoned with Chuck, when it was she that was supposed to teach him manners, Blair busied herself with opening the curtains of the box. As the stage was revealed, she had to take a moment to let the beautiful view sink in. She could see all of the theatre from their perfectly centered box and, most importantly, she could see all the residents of the boxes that surrounded her. Although she was different from most of society and actually enjoyed the music and singing, she would be lying if she didn't acknowledge that she loved surveying the crowds. The opera was a great equalizer when it came to its audience. People came to be seen, and that included the middle classes and ladies of the fallen variety. Amongst the shop owners and nobility, courtesans dripping with sparkling jewels could be found in the seats and boxes, openly searching for new patrons. Blair wasn't supposed to know such women existed, and she was never to speak of them, but it was hard not to notice them or know the names of the more famous ones.

The sound of her mother's strained voice caused her to turn from the stage.

"I really don't mind sitting in the back," Eleanor said.

Chuck stood facing the stage, with his hand touching the middle seat in the front row of chairs. "I insist. It is by far the best seat in the house. Besides you wouldn't want to sit in the back and have your vision obscured."

Eleanor shook her head. "Since it is your box, I couldn't possibly deny you the pleasure of sitting here."

"You are my guest," Chuck countered. The playful smile that hovered over his lips caused Blair to look at him suspiciously.

Unable to refuse such graciousness, Eleanor gave up at last, taking her seat with a loud sniff

Chuck moved to the next gilt chair. "Lady van der Woodsen, if you would take the seat next to Lady Waldorf, you will see why my ancestors chose this box. The view is most excellent."

"Why, thank you, Your Grace," Lily said with a grin. Seating herself comfortably, she turned to look at him. "It truly is a lovely view."

"I would really suggest, Lady Serena, that you take the seat next to Lady Waldorf since the view is so much better than the one from the back," Chuck offered with a gesture towards the chair. Serena, with an amused glance at Blair, didn't waste a moment before seating herself.

Blair couldn't help but notice that that left only two chairs, the ones in the back row. Chuck had cleverly maneuvered the situation so they would be seated together in the semidarkness without her mother's constant gaze.

"I really don't think Blair should—," Eleanor began, only to have her voice drowned out by a sudden swell of music from the orchestra.

Blair frowned as she realized she was now forced to sit in the back of the box with Chuck for the whole performance. Taking her chair, she spread her full skirts carefully, not wishing to wrinkle the fine tulle.

As Chuck slid into the seat next to her, she kept her eyes lowered, not willing to give him any encouragement or recognition. She was not about to reward his scheming, especially since it had forced her to sit so close to him. Why even now her gown was touching the side of his leg and, if she wasn't mistaken, he had moved his chair even closer to hers.

"Have you attended the opera before, Your Grace?" Eleanor's polite question did not manage to hide her condescension.

"While I haven't lately, I used to come frequently," Chuck replied.

"That is a surprise. I hadn't expected that you would enjoy this type of entertainment," Eleanor said with disdain.

"You would be surprised. Like any young gentleman, I first came to the opera for the—," Chuck paused, as if he was searching for the right words, his lips curling with devilry before he continued, "—the sights, but once I grew bored with that, I developed a real appreciation for the music and the performance."

Blair knew exactly what Chuck meant by sights. It was common practice for gentleman to pick their mistresses from among the opera dancers and singers, if not the courtesans themselves.

"Really? What is your favorite opera?" Eleanor asked, her tone making it clear how little she believed him.

To Blair's surprise, her mother deftly ignored Chuck's mention of sights even though she was quite sure Eleanor knew exactly what he was eluding to…those women she was supposed to pretend did not exist.

A slow smile spread across Chuck's face. "That would have to be _Faust_."

"I knew it," Lily interjected with a triumphant look in Eleanor's direction. " His Grace is a romantic at heart."

Eleanor looked down her aristocratic nose at her friend. "There is nothing romantic about _Faust_."

"But it took only one look at Marguerite for Faust to sell his soul to the devil," Lily argued.

"You are conveniently forgetting the opera is a tragedy," Eleanor replied tartly.

Blair bit back a smile as the orchestral music soared again, drowning out the women's bickering. As the curtains opened, revealing the opening act, Blair leaned forward in her seat. She had always enjoyed watching _Oberon_ and she wasn't going to let Chuck and his outrageous behavior or his scheming ruin the show for her. Losing herself in the soprano's majestic voice, she barely noticed when Chuck's arm slid over the back of her chair. While no one would be able to see this intimate gesture from the darkness of the box, she couldn't allow such a familiarity between them. Besides, the possessiveness of such an action was not lost on her. Turning to look at him, she gave him her coldest glare. When he merely raised an eyebrow in amusement, she conveniently flicked her wrist and loosened the silk ribbon on which her fan hung, allowing the accessory to slip off and fall to the floor.

She watched with a smug smile a flicker of annoyance cross his face. As a gentleman, he had no choice but to remove his arm from the chair and pick up her fan. Once he had bent down to pick up the trifle, she realized too late that it was his gift she was carrying with her. It hadn't been her intention to bring it, especially since she knew he was going to be here. However, her mother had caught her admiring it right before they left and had insisted she use it tonight, since it looked so well with her dress. She had no choice but to acquiesce for fear her mother question her refusal and perhaps realize that the fan wasn't something she had owned previously.

"You're using my gift?" He asked roughly. Chuck held out the object for her to take and, as she accepted it, she quickly glanced in his eyes. The pleasure and happiness she glimpsed there took her aback.

"I — I ran out of fans," she replied lamely.

"You ran out of fans?" He repeated with a laugh, his eyes knowing. "I will have to remedy that."

"No, you have given me enough. I couldn't possible accept another gift from you. To do so would suggest that we have something other than a business arrangement."

Chuck opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by a large shush coming from Eleanor. Turning around, the woman glared at both Blair and Chuck, making it clear that conversation between them would not be tolerated. As the rich voice of the lead soprano singer mingled with a tenor, Blair tried to once more let the magic of the music overwhelm her senses, but it was useless. All she could think about was the man seated next to her and the alarming effect he had on her. Throughout the first and second acts, she couldn't stop herself from stealing glances at him. Every time she looked in his direction, much to her unease, she found his gaze pointedly on her. When at last it the second act ended, she jumped from her seat, anxious to leave the box and his thoroughly unsettling company.

Stepping towards her mother's chair, she was confronted at once by the stares, whispers and pointed fingers of many of the opera's patrons. She realized then that with the opera house's gas lights turned on, everyone could see that the Duke of Alverstoke's box was filled, and not with just the Duke. Looking to her mother, she noticed that Eleanor's mouth had a smile of fixed determination on it as she waved to a fellow acquaintance. For the first time, Blair realized just how daunting her task to make Chuck Bass acceptable to society was going to be and how it might affect her and her family. Raised among the wealthy and highborn, she had never once doubted her ability to succeed at almost anything she set her mind to – until now. Accosted by the faces now openly staring in shock and disapproval, she wondered if perhaps she had at last gone to far.

"Lady Blair," hailed a male voice from the doorway of the box.

Nervously, she turned to face the speaker and saw Lord Danbury's pale face and golden hair haloed by gaslight. Expecting censure and reproach, Blair was relieved instead to see a friendly smile on his face.

"I thought that was you I saw here in the ducal box," he said with a questioning look at Eleanor.

Blair fiddled with her full skirt, smoothing the fabric. "Yes, his Grace has allowed us the use of his box."

A look of intense dislike flashed across Danbury's face. "Quite kind of him."

"Lord Danbury, have you have met his Grace, the Duke of Alverstoke?" Eleanor asked in a strained voice.

"They spoke at Grenville's ball," Blair interjected quickly as she looked from Chuck's arrogant face to Danbury's disdainful one. Remembering how they had almost come to blows at the Grenville's over Chuck's dance request, Blair racked her brain for a neutral topic of conversation she could introduce.

"Lady Blair, perhaps you would join me for a glass of champagne?" Lord Danbury asked smoothly.

Blair was torn. While part of her wanted nothing more than to escape the emotional unrest and turmoil to be found in the opera box, she knew that abandoning Chuck when he was her host was not only rude, it went against the bargain they had struck. Opening her mouth to refuse the request, she was interrupted by her mother.

"My daughter would love to accept your offer."

Blair watched helplessly as her mother stepped aside so she could join Lord Danbury at the box entrance. As she accepted the gentleman's arm, she stole a backwards glance towards Chuck. He stood half in the shadows, his eyes gleaming and a cold smile carved into his face and Blair knew he would not forget this slight.

Chuck waited until Blair and Lord Danbury had left the box before he spoke. "Lady Waldorf, it is your custom to let Lady Blair go off alone?"

Lady Waldorf focused her gaze haughtily on him. "She is not alone, Your Grace. She is in the company of a gentleman."

From her words, it was clear to everyone that she really meant that Chuck was anything but a gentleman. In her eyes, he was in every way unfit to even kiss even the hem of her daughter's gown. Tightening his fist, he became aware of a sharp pain against his palm. He had been holding the gilt top of his chair so hard the wood was splintering in his hand. Gently, he released his grip.

"You would call that man a gentleman?" His voice was soft.

"His breeding and fortune is impeccable, and his family name has been in existence almost as long as the Waldorf's. There has never been a hint of scandal attached to his name. I have no doubt he is a man of honor who can be trusted with Lady Blair."

"Maybe you need to look closer at his finances," Chuck said coolly. "He has been observed consorting with moneylenders."

Lady Waldorf looked unsettled as she shook open her fan. "Even if his fortune is compromised, I cannot believe —"

"That his only chance of escape is marriage to a wealthy debutante?"

"He wouldn't." Eleanor shook her head slowly in disbelief. "Not Danbury. I went to school with his mother, Lady Danbury."

"Are you willing to bet your daughter's reputation on an old school friendship?"

Lady Waldorf met his gaze head on. "No. If you would do me the favor of fetching Lady Blair, I would be most grateful."

With a sardonic bow, Chuck took his leave.

As he stalked down the marble hallway towards the stairs, he realized he might have just made things worse for himself with Lady Waldorf. He had no proof that Danbury's intentions were anything less than honorable. All he knew was that after the Grenville's ball he had Dabury investigated, and so far the only thing that had turned up was that he had been seen in the company of a notorious moneylender last week. In hindsight, he probably should have said nothing to Eleanor about Danbury, but he had been furious. Angry at Blair for forgetting their bargain and promptly leaving with another, angry at Lady Waldorf for refusing to see him as anything other than the gentleman he was trying to be, and even angrier at Danbury for interfering in his carefully thought out scheme. Tonight was supposed to allow him to get closer to Blair while showing off how he could behave in society and how his family's name was powerful enough to command one of the nicest opera boxes. Now the whole evening rested on him finding out whether Danbury was behaving inappropriately towards Blair. God knew if he was, Chuck would kill him. And if he wasn't, he would appear a complete fool before Blair and Lady Waldorf.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase he saw Blair, in all her glory, holding court in the corner of the theatre lobby. She was not alone with Danbury or in any distress. In fact, she was surround by beaus with several of society's most formidable matrons in attendance. Relieved and upset all at the same time, Chuck wanted to punch something and drown himself in a bottle of scotch. He ducked behind a pillar to catch a closer glimpse of Blair.

"Lady Blair, how on earth do you tolerate that devil?"

Chuck stood perfectly still as he heard Danbury reply.

"She can't. I had to rescue her."

There was a ripple of laughter, and Chuck laid the back of his head in defeat against the cold marble wall.

"There was no rescuing," Blair returned sharply. "I was merely thirsty for a glass of champagne."

"But…but aren't you terrified to be near him? You know what they say—"

"His Grace of Alverstoke has been nothing but a perfect gentleman to me. I think, Amelia, you had best spend more time worrying about what they are saying about _you_ than gossip about a man who is not here to defend himself."

Chuck lifted his head up. Blair was defending him. Not just in private, but publicly for everyone to hear. There was a strange ache in his heart. One that was so exquisitely painful, he wasn't sure he wished it to ever go away.

"Lady Waldorf must be so appalled at the connection."

"Perfect gentleman? Ha! He has been in her skirts already. Probably tupped the lady right out of her."

Stepping out from behind the pillar, Chuck was fully prepared to make it quite clear that such language in regards to Blair was never to be tolerated. Unfortunately, he was cheated of the chance when he realized that he had no idea of knowing who in the crowd had spoken. Looking back towards Blair, he noticed she was no longer standing in the lobby. Instead, she was walking in the opposite direction of his box with Lord Danbury.

Heart pounding, he pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the reactions around him. As the orchestra started once more, he got stuck in a throng of people. Forced to take the stairs slowly one step at a time, Chuck could barely keep from growling in frustration. When at last he reached the top of the staircase, he continued down the hallway Blair had taken with Lord Danbury. He began to panic when he found no sign of her anywhere. He couldn't very well shout her name in the middle of the hallway. Knocking on the first box door he saw, he didn't even wait for the occupants to answer before barging in. To his disappointment, she was not there. He continued down the corridor catching families, courtesans and even several couples in various states of undress. Reaching the last box, he took a deep breath before slowly opening the door.

* * *

The last place Blair wanted to be was in an opera box with alone with Danbury. She wished he had never offered to get her a glass of champagne. The entire time they were alone, he had belittled and made fun of Chuck and she had for some reason felt compelled to defend him. Why, even in the lobby she had made it clear to everyone how gentlemanly he had been to her, which heaven knows had been a lie. Even now, as she thought of those very ungentlemanly kisses, she was forced to also consider her very unladylike behavior in response to them. She was so caught up in remembering those kisses that she completely missed whatever speech Lord Danbury had been giving, and he was now looking at her as if he expected a response of some kind.

"So will you?"

"I'm sorry. What?" Blair looked to the stage as she heard the orchestra start to play.

"Marry me."

Blair froze. Surely he hadn't brought her here to propose marriage? He had said he had said something important to talk about. Something she needed to know about Chuck. Lifting her hand to her forehead and rubbing her temples, she sighed at her stupidity.

"I love you, Blair."

"I don't." As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how incredibly rude they must sound, but she was annoyed and wanted to go back to her – or rather Chuck's – opera box. "I mean…I don't feel for you that way."

"You could…with time. And just think how happy this would make our families."

"I'm sorry, Lord Danbury. Now if you would take me back to my box."

His face shifted into an ugly expression and, for the first time, Blair felt afraid in his company.

"You haven't given me a chance." With those words, he dragged her into a painful embrace. "I just need to show you how good we can be together."

Before Blair could argue, his lips were on hers. A shock went through her as she was forced to confront the fact that not all kisses were magical. Unlike Chuck's tender and passionate kisses, this one was horrible. All smashed lips and teeth scraping. As he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she gagged and tried to jerk away, but he had trapped her arms against his chest.

"That's enough, Thomas. Take me back to my mother." She spoke with as much authority as she could muster, forgetting that decorum said she shouldn't speak his given name.

"You flirt and tease, but you are a cold bitch, after all."

"If you don't release me, I will scream."

"Please do. Nothing would please me more than to be compromised and forced into marriage with the Waldorf fortune."

"Let her go," a familiar voice commanded.

Blair almost wept with relief. She could see Chuck standing in the doorway, his face looking like very much like the devil he was named after, and she knew she was saved.

"If you don't mind, this is a personal matter between Lady Blair and myself. So if you would leave us —"

"Don't speak her name. You aren't worthy of breathing the same air as her." Chuck's voice cut at Lord Danbury's bravado, shredding it to ribbons. "And if you don't release her, I will personally see you horsewhipped."

Lord Danbury let her go as if she were a burning coal.

"Now get out."

"Do you want me to leave you alone with this degenerate, Lady Blair?" Lord Danbury asked in disbelief, as if the very notion was ridiculous.

Blair lifted her chin. "I think his Grace asked you to leave."

Chuck stepped towards Lord Danbury menacingly, and the young lord practically shoved him out of the way in his hurry to get out of the box.

Ever since Blair's come out ball, gentleman had romantically declared they would fight for her, but never before had one actually done so. Some new indescribable emotion fluttered deep in her chest, warming her from her head to the tips of her toes.

"I would leave England if I were you, Danbury. You'll never be safe here," Chuck called after the fleeing figure.

As Chuck moved further into the box, Blair flew into his arms. For a moment she let her head fall to his chest, allowing the steady slow beat of his heart to calm her. She felt surrounded in safety, the wickedness of the world once more contained. He held her for a few minutes before gently pulling her away to stare into her eyes.

"He hurt you?"

She shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. Ashamed of her weakness, she looked to the ground.

"I swear he will never have the opportunity to get close to you again. He is finished. You believe me, don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

As if she were made of spun glass, he touched her face with the lightest caress, turning her head first to the right and then to the left, examining her. Satisfied at last that she was unharmed, he drew her back into an embrace.

"You defended me downstairs," Chuck said, and the vulnerability she heard in his voice surprised her.

"You were there?" She hadn't known. Suddenly she was ashamed of her society friends, what he must have heard.

"I followed you. I didn't trust Danbury, so I convinced your mother to let me fetch you."

"They don't even know you." Gossip had never bothered her before, but for some reason things were different now. She knew there was a side to him that no one else had ever glimpsed and because of this she couldn't bear for his reputation to continue being destroyed. She had struck a bargain with him, and she would fulfill it. She would do everything in her power to ensure that he was received, that he took his rightful place in society and found the society bride he wished for.

She tilted her head up to look at him, her lips parting. She wanted him to kiss her, to take away the stench and taste of Danbury. Instead, to her disappointment, he reached out to stroke her cheek. She grew very still, wanting to forever remember this touch. His hand moved to tuck a stray curl away behind her ear, and she sighed. The whole time he stared into her eyes, as if he were also memorizing this moment. She didn't know what he needed to see, but whatever it was he seemed satisfied, for he smiled at her, a smile so tender and sweet her heart throbbed.

"I want you to know that I stopped the parties."

Blair's breath caught in her throat. "You—you did?"

"Yes." Leaning forward, Chuck pressed his lips reverently to her forehead, his touch soft and gentle. "I need to get you back to your mother before she worries," he murmured.

She nodded. Blair was quite sure her mother would be frantic by now. The intermission had long been over.

He held out his arm for her, and she gratefully took it. Upon reaching the ducal box, she went instantly to her mother, reassuring her that yes she had had a nice time with Lord Danbury. There was no point in telling her the truth. Eleanor would be so hurt to learn that her good friend's son was a lecher of the worst kind.

"Thank you, Your Grace, for fetching my daughter."

Blair looked sharply at her mother. From her tone, it appeared she had already guessed all that had transpired. In fact, if she didn't know better, she would suspect the look her mother was now giving the Duke was one of begrudging respect.

"Will Your Grace be attending the de Lisle garden party on Wednesday?" Eleanor asked.

Chuck inclined his head.

"Good. We will see you then."

Gathering her skirts around her, Eleanor made it clear that they would be departing for the evening. Picking up on her cue, Serena and Lily rose from their chairs. Serena gave Blair a solemn look, reaching for her hand as they left the box, and Blair knew she would have to share this night's events with at least her friend. Turning her head, Blair looked back at Chuck one last time. The smile of happiness she saw on his face stayed with her long after they left the opera.

* * *

Blair sat down in front of her dressing table with a sigh of relief as Dorota picked up her Worth opera gown from where it rested on the floor. While undressing was always a chore with hoopskirts and multiple petticoats now in fashion, tonight's disrobing had seemed to take twice as long as normal. It didn't help that this nights events had left her somewhat restless and on edge. Looking into the mirror, she searched for evidence of Lord Danbury's mauling. She couldn't bear for there to be any evidence of his disgusting kisses anywhere on her person. Thankfully, there was no sign in her eyes, lips or face of the horrible encounter. Gentleman had attempted to kiss her before, but never with the rudeness of Danbury. She now realized how very lucky she had been with her first kiss. When Chuck had bargained a kiss for Serena's rescue that night, it could have ended up being as horrible as Danbury's attempt. Instead it had been magical and beautiful, so seductive that all of Blair's inhibitions seemed to completely disappear when she was in Chuck's company. Just being near him made her whole body pulse with the craving to have his lips once more on hers. To her secret shame, she feared this unholy desire was turning her into the most terrible wanton.

"Lady Blair?" Dorota cast Blair a sly look as she adjusted the delicate lace collar on her charge's night rail. "You be blushing."

Blair stared hard at her image in the mirror, her hand covering her cheeks. "I'm not!" Unfortunately, Dorota was right. Her face was pink and flushed.

"This have anything to do with that devil that sends you hairpins, hmmm?"

Whirling around on her chair, Blair slapped away Dorota's fussing hands. "Of course not."

Dorota grinned widely. "I hear you go to opera with him?"

"No, I did not go to the opera with him," Blair huffed. "We just used his box."

"You sit with him at this opera?"

"Yes."

Shrugging her shoulders, Dorota picked up Blair's ivory handled hairbrush. "Then you go to opera with him."

Blair let out a loud, exasperated sigh and grabbed the brush from her maid's hands. "It isn't like that."

At the sound of a knock, Blair lifted her eyes to the shadowy doorway of her bedroom.

"B? Can I come in?"

Serena stood holding a glowing candle against the darkness, looking the very picture of a ghost.

"Of course." Happy to be saved from her maid's chatter and eagle eye, Blair gestured for her friend to enter. "Dorota, you can retire for the night."

With a knowing look at Blair, the woman gathered up her mistress's remaining petticoats to be laundered, stopping at the door to bob a curtsy as she left the room.

Serena solemnly crept into the room, seating herself on one of the sky blue and silver gilt slipper chairs that adorned the room. "What happened tonight?"

"We went to the opera, S," Blair replied with an eye roll.

"No, that isn't what I meant, and you know it," Serena accused her friend. "Something must have happened with Lord Danbury."

Blair slowly began moving the brush through her curls. "What makes you say that?"

"I'm not stupid."

A frown marred Blair's smooth brow. Everyone thought that just because Serena was so beautiful and vivacious, she couldn't possible be bright. While her friend would never be a bluestocking, she did posses at times an intuitive intellect where her friends and family were concerned. "I know."

"So what happened?"

"Nothing, " Blair replied with an exasperated sigh. The last thing she wanted to do was relive her moment with Lord Danbury. She also wasn't sure she wanted Serena to know just what a cad the man was, or for that information to get back to her mother. She didn't want Eleanor to feel obligated to cut the connection with the family since Lady Danbury was a friend and her daughter was one of their peers.

"Right." Now it was Serena's turn to roll her eyes. "Then tell me why the Duke brought you back to the opera box instead of Lord Danbury?"

Opening her mouth to speak, Blair was halted by Serena raising her hand for silence. "Don't spin me some tale about Danbury being gracious and asking Alverstoke to escort you back. Cause that would happen when hell froze over. Besides, I saw you, Blair, and you were so pale you looked as if the floor had fallen out beneath you."

Blair yanked her brush through a snarl in her hair a bit harsher than normal. That was exactly the lie she was about to tell Serena. "Fine. I won't tell you that," she retorted.

"Alverstoke said that Danbury was seen with moneylenders recently. He hinted that his fortunes might be to let, and that the man was on the prowl for a rich bride," Serena prodded.

"The Duke said that?" The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. All night, Blair had wondered why Lord Danbury had so abruptly proposed marriage after months of gentle courtship. Now she knew the purpose behind his attack. While the Waldorf's were not the richest family in London, they were still wealthy, and Blair's inheritance was not tied to the family's estate like so many other debutantes. She would receive her portion of the Waldorf fortune upon her marriage.

"Yes, he did," Serena affirmed with a bob of her head. "He also took your mother to task for letting you be seen alone with Lord Danbury. I am sure it killed her to send him, of all people, after you to rescue your reputation."

"I can imagine," Blair answered with a laugh. "Poor mother. That must have offended all of her sensibilities."

Serena returned the laugh. "Probably. But, I have to say, she didn't hesitate when she thought you might be compromised." The laughter faded as suddenly as it had appeared, and Serena's face grew sober. "Were you in need of rescuing?"

Blair hesitated, concentrating instead on twisting her long hair into a braid.

"Please tell me. I wouldn't pry if I didn't care, B."

"I know." Blair took a deep breath, hoping she was doing the right thing in sharing this confidence. "Lord Danbury asked me to marry him and, when I said no, he became quite difficult."

Rising to her feet with concern, Serena made her way over to Blair. "How difficult?"

"He kissed me," Blair answered with a small shudder.

"Just kisses?"

Blair turned in her seat to look at Serena. "Isn't that enough?"

A funny look crossed Serena's face, one that Blair couldn't define and one that she knew she needed to explore. There was something her friend was keeping from her.

"I take it the kisses were unwanted?" Serena asked gently.

"S, they were the most awful kisses in the world. I felt like I was going to die if he kept touching me. I told him as clearly as I could that I wasn't interested, yet he wouldn't take no for an answer. I don't know what I would have done if Chuck hadn't found me when he did." Blair's hand rose to her lips in shock at her faux pas in using The Duke's given name.

Serena raised an eyebrow at Blair's misstep. "Chuck? We are calling the Duke of Alverstoke Chuck now?"

"No," Blair said firmly, her cheeks growing warm. "That was a slip. I am still just overwhelmed by what happened with Danbury and not thinking clearly."

"So then, nothing else happened with Danbury but the kiss?"

"Of course not. Why do you keep asking?" Blair caught Serena's gaze and, to her surprise, her friend's eyes were dark, their sparkle gone.

"No reason."

Blair continued to study Serena as her friend shifted restlessly from one foot to the other.

"Stop it, Blair."

"What are you hiding from me, S?"

Serena lowered her head. "Nothing," she mumbled.

Blair now knew for certain Serena was keeping something from her, and the thought devastated her. She had thought she knew everything about Serena inside and out. It was her job as her best friend and sister, and somehow she had failed. She couldn't dwell on that now, though. She needed to find out what Serena was hiding so she could help her. The problem was getting Serena to share what was on her mind. Blair's first instinct was to demand the truth, poke and prod at her friend until she wore her down. But somehow she instinctively knew that this would just cause Serena to shut down. She needed to try a different tactic. One that Serena couldn't help but fall for.

"I must be the worst friend in the world," Blair said quietly.

"How can you possibly say that?"

Fiddling with the ties on her silk and lace night rail, Blair avoided looking at Serena. "Because there is something you aren't telling me. Some reason you don't trust me."

"I do trust you," Serena rushed to reassure Blair.

"That can't possibly be true, since you feel the need to lie to me." Blair looked up, and focused large, sorrowful eyes on her friend. "I thought we were sisters."

Serena ran over to Blair, wrapping her arms around her and forcing her into a hug. "We are. Sisters forever."

Blair hugged Serena back. "Then tell me what happened."

"I want to. I really do. It is just so hard to talk about."

"Remember when we were little, when we stayed together? We would sneak into each other's beds in the middle of the night and stay up until morning talking? Let's pretend we are children again." Blair grabbed Serena's hand, leading her towards the four-poster bed. It was chilly and if they were going to have a long talk, they might as well get comfortable.

"We aren't children anymore," Serena protested, but she climbed into the bed anyway.

The bed was made for one person, but the two of them squeezed close together, pulling the bed sheets over their bodies.

"So why does what happened to me with Danbury make you so upset? Did something happen to you, too?" Blair asked as fear for her friend curled icily around her heart. If anyone had dared hurt Serena, God help her, she didn't know what she would do.

Serena was still for a long time, and Blair held her breath. "You could say that," she said at last.

Blair reached for Serena's hand, holding it tightly. "You can tell me. You're safe, and I won't judge you."

"I know," Serena replied with a wobbly smile at her friend. "It was the beginning of this season. At Sir Thomas Kincade's ball. Remember how enamored I was of Harry Stone?"

She nodded. She did remember. Harry Stone, the Viscount of Longfell, had been all Serena talked about for a month. Blair hadn't put much stock in Serena's babblings on the subject, as her friend seemed to be constantly falling in love and out with someone.

"Well, after dancing two dances with him, I just knew we were perfect for each other. We flirted shamelessly, and I wanted desperately to spend more time with him. I thought he was the one, so I wrote a note asking him to meet me in the garden and had a servant deliver it to him."

Blair couldn't help the look of surprise on her face. She hadn't realized Serena felt so strongly about Harry, or that she would act so boldly. Although she should have realized Serena would dare anything. Her friend had never been shy about expressing herself and being true to her feelings, no matter the repercussions. It was one of the things Blair loved about her.

"I know. I don't know what I was thinking. It was shameful of me, but I liked him so very much," Serena said, her voice begging Blair to understand.

"No judging, remember," Blair said, giving her friend's hand a reassuring squeeze. After all, who was she to judge, really? She who had three times let herself be kissed by Chuck Bass. Even going so far as to join him in the garden the other night, just like Serena did with Harry.

"He met me in the garden, and then he kissed me and it was so lovely. I would have been content to kiss him all night, but that wasn't enough for him. He started touching me elsewhere, and I told him that I wasn't that kind of girl. That we could save it for our wedding night. I was so terribly foolish."

The tears that glistened in Serena's eyes broke Blair's heart. "No, sweetheart. You weren't foolish. Just in love."

"He said there didn't have to be a wedding for us to have fun. He got quite aggressive. Before I realized it, he had me pinned against a tree and was lifting up my gown. I was so scared, but I couldn't cry out. I knew to be found like this in the gardens would destroy my reputation and hurt my mother."

Blair had never wanted to kill someone like she did Harry Stone. "What happened next?" She asked gently.

"It was the most wonderful thing," Serena replied with a breathy sigh. "Carter Baizen appeared from out of the shadows. He told Harry to unhand me, and then he punched him and broke his nose and said if Harry ever showed himself to me and polite society again, he would kill him."

"Carter Baizen?" Blair asked, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Yes, Carter. And don't say his name like it is a curse," Serena shot back, lifting her chin.

"But he is one of the worst womanizers in society. Is there a pretty debutante he hasn't tried to seduce?"

"Me," Serena answered sadly.

Blair looked at her sharply. "Serena Celia van der Woodsen, do not tell me you are in love with Carter Baizen now."

"What if I was?"

"His reputation is horrible. He is a known gambler, and there is not a dirty scheme he is not a party to."

Serena's eyes took on a stubborn sheen as she let go of Blair's hand. "So much for not judging."

Blair clenched her fists. "Is it judging to care for you and your reputation?"

"Yes, when you don't seem to care for your own. You are happily spending time with Lucifer. One would say your reputation is at greater risk than mine. I am not causing talk."

"I am merely trying to reform him. It is good for my reputation as it showcases my charity."

Giving Blair a look of disbelief, Serena laid her head down on the pillow. "Keep telling yourself that."

"It's true. I am only using him. " Even as she said the words, Blair had a sinking feeling that she was lying not only to Serena, but to herself as well.

Suddenly exhausted, Blair adjusted her pillow and rested against it.

"Can't you admit in the slightest that you like spending time with him?" Serena asked.

Blair didn't want to even consider the thought. She needed to stick to her task of finding Chuck a wife and not dwell on all the confusing emotions he aroused in her. It was dangerous and nothing good would come of it. Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep, but all she could think of was Chuck's dark brown eyes. Eyes that teased and comforted. Eyes that made her feel like she was the only woman in the world that existed for him.

"Blair?"

"Maybe just a little," she grumbled. She told herself she was only saying it to appease Serena and get her off her back, but she knew the truth. When she spent time with Chuck, she could feel the fluttering of a thousand butterflies and she liked it.

"I knew it," Serena crowed with triumph. "You like him. Just like I like Carter."

"I do not! Just because I enjoy his company does not mean I like him," Blair argued, but Serena's grin told her that even she had caught the fallacy in her argument. Slightly miffed, she continued, "And as for Carter, please be careful. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Don't worry. I won't," Serena yawned and settled her head more firmly onto her pillow, closing her eyes. "This is too important."

Blair started to drift to sleep only to bolt upright as she realized what Serena had left unsaid. "What do you mean, this is too important? What are your intentions with Carter?"

When Serena didn't bother to reply, Blair looked over at her friend to find her fast asleep. Punching her pillow into a comfy shape, she decided she would have to be extra vigilant where Serena was concerned. She would not let her friend's heart be trifled with by the likes of Carter Baizen. Firmly resolving to look into the situation, she settled down to sleep. As she drifted off to slumber, Blair's last thoughts were not of Carter or even Serena. Instead, she could only think of Chuck and his fairytale rescue.

* * *

I was so worried after being gone so long that I would have lost all my wonderful reviewers. I am thankful to have been proven wrong. I have the best reviewers in the world. Love and thanks go to: CBLove21, abelard, Rossiee, chairlovforever, D, wrighthangal, Liliana, flipped, Layla Waldorf-Bass, ggloverxx19, blair4eva, 24hrscout, CBBW3words8letters, TriGemini, Kate2008, Trosev, dreamgurl, Krazy4Spike, pty, CBfanhere, BellaB2010, blair waldorf bass, MegamiTenchi, Infinitywr, Krism, S, D R O W N-I N-S E Q U I N S, Kensley-Jackson, svenjen, Temp02, Bye11, mlharper, louboutinlove, Bass Luva, FatalDestruction and Celia Rose. As long as you keep reviewing, alerting and favoriting I promise to keep writing.

Thanks also go to Tati for being the most magnificent beta in the world. She manages to take my messes and make something pretty out of them. :D


	7. Chapter 7

Everyone agreed that the de Lisles couldn't have chosen a more perfect day for their garden fête. The sun glowed gently down on the guests and a light cool breeze ruffled the full skirts of the ladies present. Because the de Lisle property contained what was considered some of the finest examples of horticulture in England, most of society had turned out for the party. While the manor house centered on the property was quite common, the floral gardens that were scattered throughout were magnificent. Blair noticed none of this, however, as she stood among a group of similarly dressed women in shades of white and light pastel colors with fanciful beribboned and plumed hats tied jauntily to their heads. In her dusty rose-colored fine India cotton dress, Blair fit right in with the blooms that were crawling up the trellis behind her. Instead of joining in the conversation with the other ladies, she instead was watching the long cobblestone drive that stretched to the road, searching the carriages for any sign of the Duke's coronet. Spotting him among those greeting their host, she felt a flutter of happiness. Tamping down her joy, she forced herself to focus on her mission – making him respectable enough that he could have his pick of society brides.

As she watched Chuck shake hands and greet the de Lisles, she was struck by the startled expressions on their faces. They seemed surprised, as if perhaps he had never been invited at all. A horrible thought crept into her mind. What if he hadn't? What if he was crashing the garden party? Thinking back on their conversation at the opera, she realized that neither her mother nor she had thought to ask if he had received an invitation. She should have assumed with his reputation, and since he was new to societal gatherings, he would have few if any invites.

As the conversation among the ladies paused, she realized she was staring at Chuck in a most unladylike manner. Turning her gaze back to the women, she caught Serena staring at her with what looked suspiciously like amusement.

"I can't believe you danced with—" Miss Lydia peered furtively around her to see who might be listening, before lowering her voice to a whisper, "Lucifer."

"Or sat in his opera box." interjected Lady Celia with a shiver. "I would have been terrified."

Miss Emily looked up at Blair over the rose she was currently sniffing. "I wouldn't have. Even if the man is the devil, he is a handsome one."

Several of the ladies tittered, their gazes all drawn to Chuck as he made his way towards them from across the lawn.

"I think he's coming over here," squeaked Lady Celia, her blonde ringlets bouncing around her heart shaped face.

Blair turned around. Chuck was indeed walking towards them, a triumphant smirk firmly in place. Dressed in a light grey morning coat with a lavender and silver striped waistcoat and a dark purplish rose in his buttonhole, he looked every inch the stylish gentleman as he sauntered across the lawn. He seemed not to notice the whispers and stares that surrounded him. Instead he seemed entirely focused on her, and his intent stare caused tingles to race over her skin.

Lady Lydia leaned in close to Blair, her cheeks reddening as she spoke, "The Duke has such a fine figure. If only Mother would let him dance with me."

"I should hope she wouldn't! Your mother is doing her job and looking out for your best interests. I don't know what Lady Waldorf is thinking, allowing Lady Blair to consort with that man," retorted Miss Henrietta.

Blair fixed the dour old maid with her coldest stare. "Since you don't have the cachet to count yourself a member of Lady Archibald's organization, I can only assume you are unfamiliar with the concept of charity. But doesn't even scripture, something you should be familiar with, teach the importance of forgiveness and second chances?"

At Miss Henrietta sudden speechlessness, Lady Celia continued the argument. "Still, there are those parties. One cannot seek reformation but at the same time live such a licentious lifestyle."

"Haven't you heard? The Duke has stopped all such affairs," Blair said, with such obvious disdain it was clear that Lady Celia should be ashamed at her ignorance.

The other ladies covered up their shocked expressions with nods and small murmurs of acknowledgement at Blair's statement as if they had always known this choice bit of gossip.

"Does this mean that the Duke of Alverstoke is now an eligible bachelor?" Miss Lydia asked breathlessly as she smoothed her impeccably arranged dark hair.

"Only if you don't mind losing your social standing by allowing him to court you," Miss Henrietta replied, focusing a look of hatred at Blair. "Even though some of us don't have the good sense to spurn his attentions, I am sure the gentlemen will cut him fiercely if he tries to speak to them."

"Even the Earl of Tremaine?" asked Miss Lydia. "For he is speaking to the Duke of Alverstoke right now."

Everyone turned to look at the elderly Earl. Short and rotund with his gray mustache waxed in the current fashion, he was one of Queen Victoria's councilors and confidantes, and his acquaintance was highly sought after.

"And it certainly seems as if he is being cut, most viciously," said Miss Emily with a sarcastic snort as the Earl of Tremaine nodded and smiled at something the Duke said.

Miss Henrietta set her jaw. "The Earl is probably just waiting for the right moment to turn his back on the Duke."

"Are you sure, Henrietta? The Earl of Tremaine looks quite happy to be speaking to the Duke of Alverstoke," replied Lady Lydia with doubt.

"That can't be." Miss Henrietta's frown deepened. Suddenly she snapped her fingers. "It's the money! "

"Money?" repeated Lady Lydia.

"Yes, you twit. That is what it is. The Earl must be in debt to the Duke."

"He doesn't seem to be upset speaking to Alverstoke," Lady Celia countered.

"Of course he doesn't," replied Blair with a scornful look at Miss Henrietta. "The Earl has a fortune of his own, through his marriage into the Forsythe family."

"So why are they speaking?" questioned Lady Celia.

Miss Henrietta's dark colored eyes were savage in her pinched face. "It has to be about money."

"Just where does the Duke's fortune come from?" Lady Lydia asked with a questioning look at Blair.

"Most likely prostitutes, crime and slavery," Miss Henrietta shot back. "They say if you don't watch your back around Chuck Bass, you can disappear forever. Most likely to a brothel or sold to white slavers or worse."

Blair couldn't control her laughter. "You are being ridiculous. Where on earth did you get such an idea? This isn't a three-penny opera or a lurid novel." Her hilarity abruptly stopped, her eyes sharpening to flint as the other ladies stared at Miss Henrietta in horror. "I wouldn't repeat such things again, because if I ever hear a hint or word of this from anyone, I might just have to let slip what I saw at the Nilely's ball last season."

Miss Henrietta swallowed nervously. "It is just what I heard. I won't repeat it again."

Serena cleared her throat, breaking the tension. "I had the most horrid time at the dressmakers the other day. Why one earth is there so many shades of white? I get quite lost."

For the next several minutes the ladies discussed, weighed and argued the virtues of their own favorite shades of white. Blair tried to contribute to the conversation, but it was hard to focus with Chuck so near. Since she didn't want to appear to be staring at him, she looked fixedly at the refreshment table being laid out on the lawn. Black-gowned, white-aproned servant girls were setting out various finger sandwiches, pastries, fruit and cake while liveried footmen popped open bottles of champagne. As a shadow fell alongside her, blocking out the sun, she tensed knowing that at long last he was here.

"Lady Blair."

Breathlessly she turned to face him, a smile lighting up her features as she curtsied. "Your Grace."

"May I interest you in a walk through the rose garden?"

With dignity, she inclined her head slightly. "I would be honored." Seeing the looks of envy on the faces of Lady Lydia, Lady Celia and Miss Henrietta almost made her giggle.

Placing her fingertips on Chuck's arm, she was pleased when he laid his other hand possessively over hers.

"You are well?" Chuck asked as he led her towards the rose garden at a steady pace.

Blair realized the hidden question in his words. He was worried about her welfare after what had happened with Lord Danbury.

"Yes, thank you."

As they strolled in silence, it was hard not to notice the whispers and stares coming at them from all sides. Even though nobody was rude enough to point, it was obvious that they had become the center of attention. Trying to ignore the scene they were causing, Blair bravely forced a smile as she looked up at Chuck.

"You did have an invitation to the de Lisles today, didn't you?"

He looked down at her, a smirk playing over his lips. "And if I didn't?"

"Chuck!" Startled at her lapse in using his first name, Blair took a moment to compose herself. "Your Grace…surely you wouldn't dare?"

A chuckle was his only response.

"Please tell me you were invited," Blair pled.

"I like it when you say my name. I think I need to do more shocking and disgraceful things, just so I can hear my name on your lips," Chuck teased.

Completely flustered, Blair looked around her, convinced that at any moment a burly footman would appear to escort Chuck from the grounds in disgrace.

"You needn't worry. The de Lisles have apologized for their negligence in forgetting to send me an invite."

"You can't…you can't just show up without an invitation, Your Grace," Blair burst out. "It just is not done."

"Ah. I didn't realize." A devilish grin spread across Chuck's face. "It is is a good thing I have chosen you to help me navigate polite society and teach me all these pleasant niceties. I fear without you I would be lost."

Blair sighed in aggravation. "Didn't your parents teach you these things?"

Chuck seemed to freeze, his eyes growing cold and dull, and she wished she could take her words back. What she had said had offended or hurt him in some way, and she wasn't sure why.

"My mother died when I was born and my father, well, the less said about him the better."

The pain she heard in Chuck's voice cut at her. She hadn't known that his mother had died at his birth. As much as people gossiped about Lucifer and his exploits, there was little that was said about the man himself. The man she was slowly getting to know. She tried to imagine what it must be like for him to have never known the loving touch of a mother and felt a rush of tenderness for him. Glancing at him through her eyelashes, she tried to think of something, anything to say that would remove the look of torment from his face.

"Well, you needn't worry. I shall make sure that by the time you are ready to chose a respectable wife, you are thoroughly educated and proper."

At his silence, she wondered if she had offended him again and just when she began to despair, he spoke up.

"What exactly do you mean by respectable?"

At Chuck's playful tone, Blair felt an overwhelming sense of relief that her tactic had worked. "That she is of good family and good breeding stock…" Blair's cheeks turned pink as she continued, "virginal and, as you suggested, at the opera…beautiful."

Chuck laughed, and Blair felt her cheeks growing even hotter. "Am I looking for a wife or a brood mare?"

"I don't understand," she replied with a frown. "These are the qualities most gentlemen seek in a wife."

"I don't think I am most gentlemen. I don't wish a wife to merely be a vessel with which to beget heirs."

"Then what is it you wish for?"

Ducking his head, Chuck led Blair through an arch of blooming flowers into the rose garden. "You."

If Blair's face was pink before, she was sure it was a horrid shade of red now. "This is a game for you." With anger, she tried to pull her hand from his arm. She wouldn't deceive herself into thinking any differently. He was toying with her, and she would not stand for it. They had a bargain, and he was not playing by the rules.

With lighting quick reflexes, Chuck tightened his hold on her. "This stopped being a game a long time ago." He gazed at her intently, his eyes locking on hers. He seemed to be searching for something, waiting for something from her, but she didn't know what. When at last he looked away, she had the oddest feeling that she had disappointed him in some way. "What is it you seek in a husband?" He asked abruptly.

Taken aback by his question, it took Blair a while to answer. "I suppose a gentleman of impeccable social standing. Someone whose fortune and lineage is at least comparable to mine."

"That sounds like a business arrangement."

"I think in some ways it is. One doesn't marry beneath oneself, but of course, I also want my husband to admire and respect me." What Blair left out was how much she very much wanted to be with someone who also loved her, but she knew for societal marriages love was such a rarity it was considered abnormal when it did happen. Like most young ladies of her class, she had been taught that love was for fairytales and lurid novels, yet she couldn't help but yearn for it.

You would settle for so little?"

Flustered by the barely repressed fury in Chuck's tone, Blair distracted herself by opening her silk parasol. Lifting it up, she shaded herself from the sun.

"What of the passion and the pleasure that comes from the marital bed? You would choose some cold fish just because he is wealthy and titled enough to satisfy your desire to move up in society?" Chuck asked.

"I didn't say that," Blair retorted, deliberately ignoring his inappropriate comments about the marital bed. "You are putting words in my mouth."

"I suppose that is why they say you are angling for a Prince, a Grimaldi no less," Chuck said fiercely.

"I am not angling for anyone!" Blair said from behind gritted teeth. "And I didn't realize you listened to or believed gossip. Especially considering what is said about you."

They walked in grim silence, Blair determinedly staring straight ahead, ignoring the beauty and fragrant perfume of the roses that surrounded them.

"Don't marry him if you don't love him. You deserve nothing less," Chuck said at long last.

Blair was startled by his words. As much as she may wish for it, love didn't, _couldn't_ enter the equation. If the Prince and her were well suited, they would marry. It was her duty to her mother and to her family name.

"What qualities do you seek in a potential bride?" She asked, deftly avoiding any reply to his request. Chuck sighed with what seemed like frustration, and she felt a sense of panic that he would further pursue the topic of love. She couldn't speak of such a thing, not with him. It was too dangerous.

"I want someone intelligent who challenges me, someone who won't bore me after three days of marriage," Chuck answered coolly.

"That rules out half of the ladies I know." Somehow the idea appealed to her.

"What of your friends? One of the women you were speaking to earlier today. Would any of them be worthy of courtship?"

"No!" She exclaimed vehemently. "They are all dull. You would be bored within hours."

Chuck looked at her sideways, his eyes suddenly lighting up. "What about her? She is pretty." He pointed to a blonde tittering about something with her male companion.

"Lady Ellen?" Blair shook her head. "I don't think so. She is as dumb as a post and, besides that, her laugh is horrible."

"True. Besides I prefer brunettes to blondes. What about the lady to our left?"

Miss Charlotte Pankhurst was lovely with her dark ringlets, and Blair felt a sharp stab of jealousy. "I think not, Your Grace. She…she…" She fought to come up with a fault for the lady, and to her dismay found the lady had very few. "She dances like a lame horse."

"What if I happen to like horses?" Chuck teased.

Blair was torn by her promised duty. She knew she should be introducing him to eligible candidates, not keeping him all to herself and shooting down all of his suggestions.

As they moved towards the exit of the Rose Garden, she was surprised at the sudden pressure on her hand. Chuck had tightened his hold on her and when she looked at his face, she noticed it was taut and drawn.

"Good afternoon, Nephew."

"Jack."

Blair inhaled sharply. The tension was in the air was so thick she could feel it pressing in on her, slowly suffocating her.

"Lady Blair," the Viscount greeted, inclining his head respectfully. "You are to be commended for your charity towards my nephew. I owe you a debt of gratitude. It is not every lady who would have the courage to be seen in the company of Lucifer."

Surprised at the barely hidden rudeness in the Viscount of Blackwood's words, Blair lifted her chin. "I am not every lady, and there is no charity involved, My Lord," she answered politely. "His Grace is being most kind in showing me the rose garden."

"Ah, kindness. Not a trait I am used to hearing associated with the Duke. It seems association with you has done wonders for Chuck. It appears that at last he is displaying the basic requirements of gentlemanly behavior. I have tried since he was a youth to teach him these lessons, but it appears that it takes a female touch."

The disdainful smirk on Jack Bass's face caused Blair to bristle. While she didn't know Jack Bass well, she knew his reputation. He was known as a gentleman, but his conduct now verged on the cruel.

"That is a surprise to me. I don't remember you once taking an interest in my lifestyle. One would even suspect by your neglect, you were quietly pushing me towards ruin," Chuck said cuttingly.

Jack's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "You remember wrong, but it is to be expected when you spend your days in a drunken and drugged stupor."

"I have a feeling that behavior is in the past," Blair staunchly defended. "His Grace has decided to reform and is in the process of finding a suitable wife."

"A—a wife?" Jack's bravado disappeared instantly, his face becoming almost pale.

Chuck's lips curled into a slow smirk. "Yes. It won't be long before you will welcome a new Duchess into the family. I am planning on becoming quite respectable."

"You can't mean that. The… the parties… the whoring? It is all over?"

"It seems I have moved on, Uncle." Chuck lifted one scolding finger in the air. "And if I am correct, I believe it is highly improper for a gentleman to mention such things in the presence of a lady."

With that parting shot, Blair could only smile in approval as Chuck touched the brim of his hat in farewell.

Leaving Jack alone with his shock, they exited the rose garden.

"Has your uncle always hated you?" Blair prodded gently.

She felt the stiffness he had been carrying ever since Jack approached slowly leave his body. "I think he has."

Blair squeezed his arm in reassurance and support. "How terribly sad for you."

Chuck shook his head. "Don't. I'm not worth your pity."

"Still, he is your only family. It shouldn't be this way."

As the paved garden path they were on looped its way back towards where they had originally started their stroll, Blair was besieged with a longing to continue their walk. She didn't want their time together to end. She knew once she was returned to her friends, she would be forced to endure their inane chatter and ridiculous questions about Chuck. Questions that, do doubt, would be all about his eligibility as a suitor. Faced with such unpleasantness, she sought out a way to prolong their stay. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a field of tall box-like hedges covered in light pink blossoms and an idea came to her.

"Do you like puzzles, Your Grace?" Blair asked with a mischievous air.

"Puzzles?"

"Yes," she replied with a laugh. "Puzzles. Those lovely pieces of wood that when assembled correctly form a picture."

"I am familiar with them," Chuck returned with a chuckle.

"Do you enjoy them?"

"I may have been known, as a child, to spend hours putting them together."

Blair pulled her hand from his arm. "Then you shall enjoy my surprise." With an impish look back at Chuck, she turned and headed directly towards the field of hedges in the distance.

"Blair!"

At first she wondered if he would follow, but within seconds she heard his footsteps behind her. She smiled as he reached out once more for her hand, tucking it safely around his arm.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"That," Blair explained, pointing her parasol in the direction of a wall of hedges, "is the de Lisle maze."

"A maze?" Chuck slowed his stride in order to gaze at the structure. "I did not know there was one so close to London or that the de Lisles had one."

"I am not surprised," she answered with a sad little sigh. "It is hardly ever used. I believe they maintain it just enough to keep it from taking over the grounds."

"You have been through it?"

Blair grinned at the excitement she heard in Chuck's voice. He sounded like a little boy at Christmas. "My father used to bring me here when I was a child, and I remember getting lost in it on at least one occasion. Of course, he was quite worried as people have been lost for days within it."

"Days?" Chuck repeated with disbelief.

Leaning in close to Chuck's ear, Blair spoke with an exaggerated whisper. "It is said that the former Earl of de Lisle kept his mistress in a house at the heart of the maze. He spent so much time there that his wife grew suspicious enough to venture into the maze. It was days before anyone had figured out where she had gone and, when at last she stumbled out of a hedge, her once fashionably plump figure had been whittled down to nothing. It was considered quite the tragedy, as her buxom form was most admired."

Chuck threw back his head and laughed. "So have you ever been through it? Made it to the center?"

Blair looked at Chuck coyly. "Many times. I have always been good at puzzles. Sadly, Your Grace, I think most people find the maze far too challenging for them."

"Are you suggesting I am not up to snuff? That I would fail to solve the maze?" Chuck asked incredulously, as if she had insulted his manhood.

Staring down her nose at him, Blair made it clear that that was exactly what she thought.

"I am most insulted." His mirth-filled eyes and wide grin belied his words.

"A challenge, then?"

Chuck gazed down at her with barely concealed excitement. "Yes. A challenge it is."

Pulling away from him, she lifted her parasol in the air to point out directions. "There is an entrance to the maze at on the North, South and East sides. Each uses a different route to reach the center. The west side has a direct path that leads to a cow pasture. For obvious reasons neither one of us will take the West path. You will know you are in the heart of the maze when you reach the fountain in the middle. Whoever reaches the center of the maze firsts and touches the fountain wins."

"Agreed, but first I would like to know what reward we are competing for."

"Reward?" Blair asked with surprise. "Must there be one? Isn't knowing you have won enough?"

Chuck cast her a devious smile, his white teeth glittering. "No, there must always be something at stake. A prize of some type to sweeten the gamble."

"I see." A frown marred her brow. "What is it you wish to bargain?"

"A dance?" Chuck tapped his gloved finger along his jaw. "No, I think not. Much too easy for you to risk. Maybe another kiss?"

"You have already had three, Your Grace," Blair hissed, her fingertips skimming her lips subconsciously. It would be so easy to settle for a kiss. Already she could feel the erotic heat of his lips on hers, and she burned with a terrible longing to kiss him right then. Yet to succumb to such a bet was surely the path to sin. "There can be no more kissing," she said with a firm shake of her head.

Disappointment blazed in his eyes before vanishing behind a slow blink. "A ride in the park." Blair opened her mouth to eagerly agree, only to have him interrupt, "Without a chaperone."

"Your Grace, I —."

"Do you have such little confidence in your skill, Blair?" He taunted.

Blair lifted her chin defiantly, meeting his gaze head on. "I have been solving this maze since I was six. It is you that needs to be worried."

He closed the distance between them. "Then what do you have to be afraid of?"

"Nothing!" She retorted, taking a wary step back.

"Tell me what it is you wish of me if you should happen to win."

She didn't have to think long. There was one thing she needed from him in order to remove the lie that hung over her head. She had promised Lily, with her mother in attendance, that he would give a generous donation to Girls Incorporated for her help with easing him into society. "I need a donation to the charity, Girls Incorporated."

"Done."

"You didn't even ask the amount," she huffed.

"My fortune is at your disposal," Chuck replied with a slight bow. "If you win, that is," he mocked.

Blair stepped forward, her lips hovering a breath away from his, and she exulted in the dark surge of lust she saw flicker in his eyes. "I always win."

"We shall see," Chuck replied hoarsely, leaning in even closer.

"I'm not going to lose." With a confident smile, Blair stepped away from him. "I will take the North side and you can take the East." Picking up her skirts, she began running as fast as she could. "Ready, set, go!"

Chuck watched in disbelief as Blair's slight figure, her stocking covered ankles showing, ran towards the maze opening. She didn't even wait for him to get ready before taking off. She was cheating, and he was utterly enchanted. Knowing that she had a good head start on him, he took off running towards the East entrance of the maze. Striding between two hedges cut to form an entrance, he was instantly cocooned in thick, lush greenery. Besides the twittering of a few birds, the inside of the maze was quiet except for the rustle of his footsteps through the grass. Looking up, he realized that the hedges were easily seven feet tall and the walls were as thick and impenetrable as marble. He moved quickly among the shadows and abruptly came to a fork in the road. After choosing to go to the left, he swore sharply when he hit a dead end and was forced to turn back around. He focused on the direction the rays of sunlight were hitting the ground and once more got his bearings, realizing that in order to hit the center of the maze he was going to need to move further North. Time seemed to slow to a sickening rate as Chuck was forced over and over again to retreat after hitting the end of a corridor. He was getting frustrated and beginning to wonder how he would deal with the shame if he was lost for days in the maze, when he heard the bubbling sound of water. At last, he knew he was close. With renewed energy, he began racing towards the sound. He didn't care that his impeccably tailored suit now had several snags from sharp tree branches or that there were grass stains along the cuffs of his gray linen pants. All that mattered was that he beat Blair and win. Not because he cared about losing the money to Girls Incorporated, but because he wanted nothing more than to ride in the park alone with her, far from the watchful eye of society and her mother.

Stepping into the clearing, he heard a scuffling noise coming from the hedge to his left. Branches snapped off and the tall bush began to bow from the weight of the full-skirted figure that somehow appeared to be climbing it. He could only stare in wonder as Blair threw her parasol over the bush and managed to gracefully descend the hedge and jump to her feet without injury. He couldn't believe that not only had she cheated by giving herself a head start, but she had also tricked him by climbing over the hedge into the center of the maze, not solving it as she had bragged she could do. Still, he couldn't stop smiling as she smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt and readjusted her hat on her head. Then her eyes met his and she froze. His smile became a smirk as it slowly registered on her face that he had caught her cheating. As she lifted her skirts to sprint, he realized that neither one of them had actually won yet. The fountain still lay yards ahead of them. There was no way he was going to let her win.

Chuck forced himself to run, something he hadn't done since he was a child. They ran practically neck and neck towards the fountain. First she was ahead and then he was, and finally they were evenly matched with only a foot to their goal. Her hand reached out to touch the fountain and before he could stop himself, he grabbed her around her waist with one arm, forcing her back behind him. She struggled furiously against his grip but he held on strong, keeping her from winning.

"Chuck!"

He ignored her as he reached out with his other hand and slowly, with a single fingertip, touched the stone edge of the fountain. "I win."

"You cheated," she accused angrily.

"_I _cheated?" He threw back at her.

Blair continued to struggle against his possessive hold on her waist. He should have behaved himself and let her go, but instead he held her tighter and when she at last stilled a bit, he pulled her even closer towards him. Splaying his fingers over the fabric of her tiny corseted waist, he let himself imagine for a delicious moment what it would be like to touch her skin instead. To slowly peel her gown and petticoats from her, layer by layer, unveiling Blair Waldorf in all her glory. He was instantly, painfully aroused and it was becoming more difficult with every passing moment not to crush his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss. As he stared into her upturned face – her eyes heavy and dark with desire, her chest rising and falling with sharp, rapid breaths – he knew how very close to seduction she was.

"I have won and you have lost," he rasped, his lips hovering over the delicate shell of her ear.

Her eyes sparked dangerously, but she said nothing. Instead she stomped on his foot, her heeled boot digging into his toes. Taken aback by the pain, he was forced to release her and she moved quickly away from him.

"You can behave as childishly as you like, but I have beat you fairly. I am owed one ride in the park, alone and un-chaperoned. " He lowered his voice to a throaty purr. "And I won't be denied."

Blair paled slightly, her eyes large and dark in her face. She stared challengingly at him for a moment. He was sure she was going to back out, but slowly she nodded and he knew he had won this round. "It is going to be difficult."

"I have no doubt it will be," he agreed, but he had no worries she would succeed. Her ingenuity and cleverness in attempting to cheat him showcased the deviousness she was capable of, even if she didn't want to admit it.

She looked down to stare wistfully at the grass beneath her feet. "I will have to deceive my mother."

Her obvious pain struck at his heart, but he wouldn't give in. He deserved this time with her, needed it if he was going to get what he wanted. "All is not lost, Blair. I will give you your donation to Girls Incorporated. How much is it you desire?"

A look of intense relief fluttered across her face, and he wondered what tangle she had found herself involved in.

"Five hundred pounds," she suggested nervously, and he knew that she expected him to refuse.

"Let's make it a thousand."

Her face lit up at his offer and he wished he had offered more, if only to make her smile brighter.

Chuck couldn't help himself. She was so very beautiful, the sun gently caressing her face. Stepping towards her, he reached out to gently tilt her head up with his fingertips. Their eyes met and her innocence shone through, curling around his blackened soul and driving out the darkness. Blair's eyelids fluttered closed and while she didn't encourage him, neither did she move away. Swooping down, his lips brushed her satiny ones with reverence. The perfection of this golden moment was engraved forever in his memory. He parted her lips, slipping his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth. She responded eagerly, her hand reaching up to grip his shoulders. Curling his tongue around hers, he stroked and teased until their kisses grew fevered. He had never desired someone as he did her. She soothed and enflamed him at the same time, stripping away his defenses and revealing his true self. Heady arousal, thick and intoxicating, swirled around him. As she kissed him back, her soft body tightly pressing against his, he knew that she felt it too.

Blair sighed as his lips left hers and her soft sound of pleasure, her complete capitulation to his kiss, made the blood sing in his veins. With feather light, angel kisses, his lips moved down her neck to suck lightly at the tender, silken flesh. She squeezed his shoulders, swaying on her feet when he fluttered his tongue, tasting the sweet saltiness of her skin. She smelled of sunshine and a unique scent of freesia and gardenias that drove him wild.

His fingertips skimmed her waist briefly before trailing up to trace over first one small pert breast and then the other. Her nipples pebbled under his touch, and he rubbed one lightly with his thumb. She quivered at his touch, and his passion left him senseless. He would have her, all of her. It was more than a want; it had become a need.

"Chuck," she moaned though swollen lips.

He heard his name, and it spurred him on. He slid his hand down the side of her skirt and lifted it. Running his fingertips up her silk stocking-clad leg, he reveled in the intimate touch. He wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and thrust into her, burying himself in her heat. As her body tensed up, he was forced once more to realize her purity and innocence. He couldn't just take her, as much as his body demanded it. She needed to be wooed and cherished.

"Stop."

Her words, while breathy and hoarse, were a command he couldn't ignore. As much as he wanted to gently push and force a seduction, he wouldn't. Not this time, and not with her. She had to give all of herself fully to him, or it would taint everything and his victory would be hollow.

"Why?" He asked, pressing his lips to her throat.

She took a deep breath and he could feel her pulse flickering frantically under her skin.

"It shouldn't be like this."

The hurt that crashed through him brought sickness to his belly. The moment had been so perfect, so heavenly for him. He had miscalculated, though, thinking it had been the same for her. Chuck felt foolish and betrayed.

"How the hell should it be?" he growled. Chuck thought he had been sweet and tender in his touch. He had given more of himself to her than he had ever given to any other person. Didn't she see how much she meant to him?

At the ferociousness in his voice, she backed away. Her hands twisted nervously. "You spoke earlier of love. What I deserved."

Chuck remembered the words. He had been desperate to put a wedge between her and Grimaldi.

"You're right. I do deserve love, and this act, what we were about to do…is wrong." She caught his gaze bravely, even as her voice cracked when she spoke. "You don't love me, and I don't love you."

He inhaled sharply. His denial floated on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to reassure her, give her those three words, but fear rippled through him in waves. How could he know what love was? He who had sullied himself with every vice known to man. Even before then his father had barely been able to look at him, let alone love him. His mouth grew dry, his pulse racing. Even if he could bring himself to say those words, if she didn't return them, he knew it would kill him. He realized then that his carefully plotted plan had completely fallen apart. With his earlier words of love he had damned himself. He had told her to marry for love when he himself doubted his own ability to offer this to her. Chuck needed her, wanted to marry her, but how could he possibly give her what she deserved?

There must have been something in his demeanor; something that spoke to her, because she reached out to briefly touch his shoulder in what felt like comfort. He flinched, the touch burning him.

"We need to get back." Blair turned to pick up the parasol she had dropped at his kiss.

Wordlessly and filled with emptiness, he held out his arm for her to take. In silence they left the maze. As they made their way back towards the lawn, he cursed Blair and most of all he cursed himself.

"Blair. There you are. I was beginning to get worried," Eleanor hailed, shooting Chuck a look that would have had a lesser man trembling in his shoes. Blair's mother's gaze narrowed as she studied them. He knew the picture they made and her look of distress pleased him. A few curls tumbled from Blair's hair arrangement and her hat was slightly askew. What was most damning were her swollen lips as ripe and as red as cherries.

"What on earth have you been up to? You look as if you had been climbing trees."

Chuck watched as Blair self-consciously smoothed the wrinkles from her dress, wincing as she noticed the grass stains on her hem. "I was showing Chuck the maze."

"I never could understand your fascination with that overgrown shrubbery." Eleanor's wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I wish you hadn't taken His Grace there. It will cause the most horrible talk if it is known you were alone with him so long." Eleanor shook a scolding finger at her daughter. "You should know better than to do something like this."

"I am to blame, Lady Waldorf," Chuck offered gallantly. "I have a partiality for mazes."

"Well, next time explore them on your own." Taking Blair's hand, she pulled her daughter from Chuck's proprietary hold. Without even a farewell, she led Blair away and Chuck couldn't help feeling as if a part of his heart went with her.

"Mother," Blair said under her breath. "You were quite rude to His Grace."

"Well, really, the man deserved it. If it weren't for his crazy partiality for mazes, I wouldn't have had to keep Lord Cary cooling his heels waiting for you."

"Lord Cary is here?"

"Yes, and he wishes to speak to you."

Eleanor led Blair behind a large drooping willow tree. Letting out a loud sigh of exasperation, she adjusted her daughter's bonnet, centering it more firmly on her head. "What were you thinking?"

Blair opened her mouth to answer, only to have her mother cut her off rudely. "I don't know what has gotten into you. How could you act so recklessly as to go off gallivanting with Lucifer?" Her mother didn't wait for an answer as she moved to brush bits of green from the folds of Blair's skirt. "I knew it was a mistake to allow you to take part in this ridiculous charade with the Duke. If you are going to forget all sense of propriety and behave heedlessly without care of your reputation, I am going to have to put my foot down. This can't continue."

Her mother was right. Things couldn't continue as they were with Chuck. With him, she somehow allowed herself to get swept away, forgetting everything her mother had ever taught her. Never before had she ever behaved as recklessly with another gentleman as she did with Chuck.

"I know," Blair agreed. "I behaved inappropriately, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

At her words, her mother appeared somewhat mollified. "I have gone through great effort to create a future for you. Promise me you won't throw it away for a few minutes of flirtation with a man who will never be able to give you what you deserve."

Guilt settled uncomfortably in her stomach at Eleanor's words. With Chuck's kisses in the maze, she had been willing to do just that. She couldn't allow that to ever happen again. "I promise."

"Remember, I only want what is best for you." Eleanor smiled, reaching out to gently tuck an errant curl that had escaped back into Blair's bonnet. "Now we mustn't keep Lord Cary waiting any longer. He has something very important to say to you."

Blair let her mother pull her from behind the willow tree and towards a small arbor where Lord Cary stood with the Earl of Tremaine. The Earl inclined his head in salutation, and she did likewise.

"Lady Blair," Lord Cary greeted cheerily. "Did you enjoy your walk? I heard you were in the rose gardens."

"Yes, my Lord." She waited for him to say something about her company on the walk, to suggest that such conduct was unsuitable for a prospective bride of a Prince. Instead the man merely nodded agreeably.

"I wanted to tell you personally that Prince Grimaldi has arrived in town and is eagerly waiting to meet you. Lady Eleanor suggested that teatime tomorrow would be appropriate?"

Blair's head spun. The Prince, after all this talk and her mother's careful planning, was finally here. Emotions she couldn't define whirled through her. She thought of Chuck and their kiss in the maze, the strange ache in her heart that he aroused. When she had spoken to him of love, the acute disappointment she had felt at his silence had paralyzed her. It was only when she saw the broken look on his face that she had been able to rouse herself from the darkness that had descended over her. Chuck did something to her. He destroyed her carefully ordered life and made her feel things, bringing her from the heights of joy to the depths of despair all in a matter of minutes.

"Lady Blair? If you are concerned about the forwardness of such an invitation from Prince Grimaldi, I can pledge that he holds you in the highest esteem and would never do anything improper towards yourself. He wishes only to spend time with you alone without the prying eyes of society."

Could this be her chance at love? If so, it would be a fairy tale come to life and Blair owed it to herself to give Prince Grimaldi a chance to make her dreams come true.

"I understand." Blair flashed him a smile. "I would be honored to have him to tea."

"Good, good." Lord Cary exchanged a look with Lady Eleanor, and the two of them beamed with pleasure. "Now that is settled…if you will excuse me, I am quite parched and in desperate need of a glass of rum punch."

"Of course," Lady Eleanor replied, stepping out of the way.

"Lady Eleanor, Lady Blair, Lord Tremaine." Lord Cary touched the brim of his hat in farewell before taking his leave.

At the sound of Lord Tremaine clearing his throat, Blair turned her gaze to him.

"While that glass of rum punch is also calling to me, I would be remiss in my duty to Her Majesty not to tell you that the Queen is very interested in Prince Grimaldi's courtship." Lord Tremaine's tone grew serious. "In fact, I feel the need to express how very important Monaco's ports are to the defense of our great nation. It is imperative that the Prince takes an English bride to ensure the continued relations between our two countries. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Blair understood exactly what he was saying, and she felt her fairly tale slipping through her fingers like sand. This was to be an arranged marriage, and it didn't matter how she felt about the Prince. Her shoulders slumped, her head bowing in submission. This is what she had been bred for. "I understand perfectly."

He smiled at her with gratitude. "I knew you were a clever girl that deserved to be a Princess. Now, if you don't mind, I think I will get that glass of rum punch."

His words recalled Chuck's and what now felt like a lifetime ago. _"Don't marry him if you don't love him. You deserve nothing less."_ Taking a deep breath, Blair gathered her pride and her newfound dreams around her. "I will not marry him if we are not suited." She did not mention words of love, knowing that such a thing would be thought of as madness.

Her mother gasped, and the Earl of Tremaine's smiled faded. He studied her through his grizzled grey eyebrows, and she suddenly felt very small and silly. Then he nodded. "Her Majesty, I am sure, would agree to that."

Blair felt near to fainting. She had stood up for herself and to Lord Tremaine. She couldn't believe she had done such a thing. Now she could only hope that, having won this battle, Louis Grimaldi truly would be the Prince of her dreams.

* * *

Thanks to my awesome reviewers: nostalgiakills, louboutinlove, Pippa Squeak, MegamiTenchi, L, Krism, batgirl2992, Lola, svenjen, FrozenandYetNot, VanillaNewYork, kk218, kk218, D R O W N-I N-S E Q U I N S, Bye11, Celia Rose, CBBW3words8letters, Krazy4Spike, 24hrscout, B Bass, dreamgurl, Curious Blonde, KandieCTS, TerraBeth, Temp02, Fragile Ecstasy, Rossiee, D, Rf, forevermagic, abelard, bfan, pty, TriGemini, Trosev and Infinitywr.

Thanks also to my wonderful beta, Tati. Credit also goes to Katiedv for her help with certain historical aspects and nondescriptf for inspiring the maze idea.

For those waiting for the next chapter of Violet's I hope to post next weekend.


	8. Chapter 8

For Katie.

Thanks to Tati for the beta.

* * *

Blair sat primly on the edge of a powder blue wingback chair in her mother's drawing room. With growing impatience, she watched as her mother whirled around the room adjusting pillows, moving knickknacks and even straightening the blooms in a floral arrangement. Eleanor had even moved her several times, this being the third place she had been told to sit in the past fifteen minutes. If her mother didn't take a seat soon, Blair thought she would likely scream. Her own nerves were on edge as it was, and her mother's fits were not helping.

With a huff, Eleanor picked up the current issue of Godey's Lady Book propped up on a corner chaise. "You girls and your fashion magazines. Must you leave them laying out everywhere?" Sliding open a drawer in one of the room's small end tables, she shoved the periodical inside, slamming it closed.

Pressing her lips together, Blair fought the urge to point out that it was her mother who had last been seen reading that issue. Eleanor, seemingly now satisfied with the room, turned her attention once more to Blair. Cocking her head to one side, she studied her daughter. "Maybe that chair isn't the best place for you to sit. With the drapes partially closed, you are half in the shadows. Prince Grimaldi will hardly be able to see you. " Walking over to a different floral patterned chair, she adjusted it slightly so the rays of sunshine that entered the room were centered over it. "Here, I think this will work best."

When Blair didn't answer, Eleanor gave her a sharp glance. "Blair, I need you to move. Now."

With an exasperated sigh, Blair stood up, her skirts falling heavily around her. Her mother had personally chosen her white lace gown for this special occasion. Together, they had rifled through her entire wardrobe of tea gowns, trying on a half dozen before settling on this dress. Her mother had finally decided this was the right one because the white lace made her appear as innocent as a blushing bride while the green ribbon that trimmed the flounces at the hem and the wrists of the sleeves kept it from being too virginal. To match the ribbon, she wore an emerald brooch at her throat and ear bobs of the same stone. Her mother, after observing her at length, declared herself quite pleased by the way the green brought out the color of Blair's eyes, a direct contrast to the demure white dress she wore. Blair had been satisfied enough with the gown that she hadn't protested.

Seating herself in the new chair, Blair sat very still as Eleanor fussed over her skirts and smoothed the wrinkles.

"Really, Blair. Must you wear those butterfly pins from Alverstoke?"

"I didn't realize I had," she lied. "Would you like me to have Dorota change them for regular ones?"

"Not now. There isn't time." A grimace passed over Eleanor's face. "Even I have to admit, the things do look lovely in your hair."

Blair smiled at her mother's words. She knew how much it annoyed Eleanor that the Duke had presented her with such a sweet and romantic gift. Thinking of Chuck, her smile faded a little as she recalled their tryst in the garden maze. Things had gone much too far between them and she could only be glad she had come to her senses when she had. She had promised to find him a wife, not provide wifely duties herself. Their partnership was supposed to be limited to her finding him a bride and teaching him respectability, but somehow those lines always seem to blur when they were together. It was a good thing her priorities had been set straight with Prince Louis's timely arrival.

Eleanor took several steps back, stopping to scrutinize her daughter. "That's perfect. With the sun glinting off your hair, you look positively radiant."

Serena chose that moment to sashay into the room, dressed in a dark blue carriage outfit trimmed with black braid. "What do you think?" She asked as her skirts twirled around her. "It's new from Paris."

"It's very nice, dear," Eleanor replied with a nod of approval. "What bonnet are you going to wear?"

"That's the thing… I was hoping to wear Blair's new blue ostrich one." At Blair's forbidding look, Serena playfully clasped her hand together in prayer. "Please? I promise to take good care of it."

"Just why are you getting so dressed up? New dress and my new bonnet?" Blair asked, narrowing her eyes with suspicion.

Color pinked Serena's face. "I have a carriage ride with Sir Baizen."

"Sir Baizen?" Blair repeated, wrinkling her nose with distaste.

"I hate when you say his name like that," Serena said with a pout. "You make him seem like the worst reprobate, and he has given me no reason to suspect his attentions are anything but honorable.

Eleanor shot Blair a look of disapproval. "I am sure that Baizen's intentions are nothing but honorable. Besides, it is a beautiful day for a carriage ride and you are sure to have a pleasant time with him. It is such a pity about his estrangement from his parents. His mother, poor dear, is beside herself." She turned her eagle eyed gaze to Serena. "Maybe a few words whispered in his ear from a lady he admired would help?"

Blair wanted to laugh at the idea. Carter had managed to burn every bridge his parents had extended to him, and she didn't think his current infatuation with Serena was going to change anything. Although, she supposed, if anyone could bring about a Baizen reconciliation, it would be her friend. Serena could charm bread from a starving man.

"I…I can try," Serena replied, but the doubt in her voice didn't offer much hope.

"I am sure he will listen to you," Eleanor said in a tone that brooked no argument. "He has shown marked attention to you these past few weeks."

It was true and it made Blair nervous. She had been lax in her duty to her friend. Which made it even more apparent that she was going to have to get involved in this whole Carter and Serena situation. She wouldn't be as careless as she had been with Harry Stone. If there was to be any courtship between the couple, she was going to have to be involved to make sure that Serena did not get hurt.

Clearly uncomfortable with the subject, Serena turned her attention to Blair. "So can I wear the bonnet, dearest sister of mine?"

"Do I really have a choice?"

"No," Serena answered with a giggle. "Thank you." Whirling around, she made her way towards the door, calling over her shoulder. "Have fun with your prince today."

"I will." Blair returned sweetly.

With a frown, Eleanor once more crossed the room to move again the same pillow she had straightened just minutes ago. "I hope you realize how important this meeting is today, not only for you, but for England."

"I do." How could she for one minute forget?

Eleanor whirled around at the sound of Vanya clearing his throat behind her. "Madam, I do believe His Highness's carriage is here."

"Well, don't lag about here! Go stand at attention at the door. And don't forget to order the tea things."

"Mother, don't bark at Vanya. I would think after all this time he knows the protocol for greeting a guest."

Looking slightly ashamed, Eleanor seated herself on one of the gold striped settee's that adorned the room. "You're right. I am just nervous."

Blair was starting to feel nervous herself. She had waited and thought of this moment for so long, pinning her future dreams on its outcome. What if all the planning and time her mother had put into this match was for naught? Could she bear it if Prince Grimaldi, after one look at her, decided that she was not acceptable?

She heard a soft greeting in the entryway and footsteps coming towards the drawing room and mentally she prepared herself for the worst.

"His Highness, Prince Grimaldi," Vanya announced with a bow. As he stepped aside to let the gentleman enter the room, Blair rose to her feet.

Just before dropping into a deep curtsey, she caught a quick glimpse of the Prince and what she saw eased her nervousness a little. She had often worried that upon seeing him she would find him horribly unattractive, but the man she saw was quite pleasant to look at. He had dark hair and eyes and, while he didn't possess the exotic sensuality of Chuck, he could be considered handsome. Realizing she was thinking once again about Chuck Bass, she mentally kicked herself. She really shouldn't compare the two. Once was a Royal Prince and the other a thoroughly disreputable Duke.

She felt the Prince move towards her and, peering up through her eyelashes, she saw him offer his hand to her. Placing her hand in his gloved one, she rose. As she did so she was struck by the look of happiness on his face. Perhaps he was pleased she wasn't unpleasant to look at as well?

Eleanor hurried towards them. "Your Highness, I would like you to meet my daughter, Lady Blair."

Lifting her hand to his mouth he respectfully kissed her fingertips. "I am honored."

Bestowing a pleased look at him, Eleanor waved her hand towards the chair next to Blair. "Won't you have a seat?"

"Thank you," Louis replied and Blair noticed he held her hand for a minute longer than decorum deemed necessary before at last releasing her fingers.

Spreading her skirts, Blair sat back down, noticing that Louis's eyes never left hers as he took the seat by her.

"How was your journey, Your Highness?" Eleanor asked.

Reluctantly, the Prince's gaze left Blair. "Please do call me Louis. It seems silly after all this time that we stand on formality."

Blair noticed that her mother appeared a bit flustered at this new development, but she took it in stride, inclining her head in acceptance. "Louis… How was the journey?"

"Normally it is a chore, but the excitement of knowing I was finally going to meet Lady Blair made it practically tolerable."

Color bloomed on Blair's cheek. His words surprised her. While Lord Cary had spoken of the Prince's eagerness to meet her, she had assumed it had been lip service.

Eleanor beamed. "We have been excited about this meeting, as well. Haven't we, Blair?"

"Yes. " Blair tried to think of something else to say, but for some reason her polite conversation skills seemed to have vanished. "Where are you lodging?" she asked finally, even though she already knew the answer.

"Lord Cary is kindly letting me stay with him in his London townhome. He would have come with me today, but he felt that our first meeting should be with as little pomp and circumstance as necessary and I agree. There is no need for such formality between friends," Louis said with a smile.

"We are pleased that you would honor us so," Eleanor replied, preening a bit at his words.

As Vanya arrived with the silver tea tray, Eleanor rose to her feet and Louis followed suit. "Vanya, please place the tea things next to Lady Blair."

"Aren't you going to pour, Mother?" Blair asked as the china tea service was placed on the side table before her.

Eleanor waited for Vanya to leave before replying, "It seems I have developed quite a headache this afternoon. I think I will retire to my rooms for a bit of a rest."

Louis's face fell. "Perhaps I should leave. I would not wish to compromise Lady Blair's reputation by being alone in her company."

Alarm flashed briefly in Eleanor's eyes. "There is no fear of that. If Vanya leaves the door to the drawing room open, there is no reason why you can't stay."

"This would be acceptable to you… Appropriate?"

"Of course, Your Highness," Eleanor hastily assured him. "Besides, we are friends, aren't we?

He seemed to weigh her words before answering with a small nod. "Yes, of course. And I promise you, Madam, that I shall not act in any way towards Lady Blair that would cause you to question my intentions or my honor."

"Put your mind to rest. I have no fears on that account. Now if you will excuse me, Your Highness." Eleanor swept the Prince a curtsey.

"Louis, please," Louis said with a polite bow. "I do hope you feel better, Lady Waldorf. Have you tried hartshorn mixed with water? My mother suffers from headaches as well, and she swears by it."

Eleanor flinched slightly. "I believe I am out of hartshorn."

Blair covered up her laughter with a cough. Her mother didn't have a headache in the least and even if she did, hartshorn made her deathly ill.

"I shall have some delivered for you as soon as I take my leave. You will feel better in a matter of hours," Louis replied, his eyes seeming to gleam with pleasure at having been able to offer his services.

"How kind," Eleanor said faintly. "I'm afraid I really must take my leave of you now."

"Of course. It was so nice to meet you, Lady Waldorf."

"Likewise."

As Louis took his seat once more, Eleanor left the room, but not without giving Blair a meaningful glance. Blair couldn't believe her mother had maneuvered this entire scene to her advantage. What was supposed to be a chaperoned tea had now become quite intimate. All of a sudden, she was tired of being manipulated; not only by her mother and Lord Cary, but also by Lord Tremaine and his much needed alliance for England. She didn't want to make idle chit chat while Louis, no matter how nice he seemed, sized up her suitability. Sitting up as straight as she could, she boldly caught Louis's gaze.

"Are you aware of the purpose of this meeting today? The plans that are wished for us?"

"I am."

The hesitant note in his voice only made Blair more certain she needed to be as upfront with him as possible. "I won't be forced into a marriage with you just to make my mother happy or create some kind of diplomacy between our two countries."

Blinking several times, Louis seemed shocked at her honesty. Taking a deep breath, he paused before speaking, "I wouldn't dream of forcing a marriage between us if it wasn't what you wanted. While an English marriage is very important to Monaco, I would never wish to marry someone who was unwilling or who had so little regard for me."

Feeling mollified and embarrassed, Blair swept her gaze away from Louis and towards the steaming teapot that sat in front of her. "Maybe you would care for some tea?" She asked, anxious to change the subject.

"No, thank you," He answered with a soft tone. "Do you honestly see me as some ogre who would force you into marriage?"

The truth was she was no longer sure how she saw him. Months ago she had seen him as her future bridegroom and marrying him her duty. Who he was or how he made her feel didn't matter so much. She would be marrying a prince, after all. Now, after speaking with Chuck, so much had changed. She wanted and deserved more than that from a prospective bridegroom. Maybe it was too much to ask for love, but she wanted at the very least to be cherished and desired. Like Chuck seemed to desire her. At this traitorous thought, Blair lifted her eyes from the teapot only to find Louis's intent gaze on her. As she forced herself back to his question, she decided that no, he did not seem an ogre in the least. He had been nothing but kind and friendly since he entered her home. A man like that would not wish nor deserve an unwilling bride.

"No, Your Highness. I don't think of you as an ogre."

"Louis, please."

"Louis," she corrected herself.

A smile lit his face. "A man of my station does not often get to do without such formalities, so it pleases me greatly to have someone I hold in such high regard use my Christian name. Perhaps you will consider letting me call you by your given name?"

"Yes." Blair smiled back at him. "I think that would be permissible. But only if you tell me what it is I have done that you hold me in such high regard? We are strangers, after all, having only met today."

Louis shifted in his chair, his fingers nervously playing at the red rose pinned to the buttonhole of his dark grey day coat. "Would it be too forward to tell you that I feel as if I already know you?"

Blair gave him a look of bemusement. "I don't see how that could be possible."

"Well, there are the letters. Your mother's and Lord Clary's. They both spoke so eloquently of you."

"My mother?"

"Yes, she wrote with such pride about you and your accomplishments. She shared with me your courage and loyalty to her in the months that followed your father, Lord Waldorf's, death."

At a loss for words, tears pricking at her eyelids, Blair focused on smoothing the green ribbon on the cuff of her sleeve. She and her mother had never talked much about that dark time after her father's death. It had been a difficult period for both of them, but her mother had taken it so very hard. At first she had spent weeks in bed and Blair had spent every hour she could trying to cajole her to get up, even eat. Then a few months later she had emerged from her bed chamber a different person. She had become cooler, more calculated and entirely focused on Blair and her future. It seemed that she had poured all of her loss into one goal, ensuring the most advantageous match she could for her daughter.

At Blair's silence, Louis continued, "Then there were the newspaper clippings I received of your charitable efforts with Girls Incorporated. Such dedication to those less fortunate than yourself is to be commended. "

Looking up she saw the admiration brimming in his eyes, and she didn't have the heart to tell him that her reasons for joining Girls Incorporated might not be as altruistic as he thought. How could she tell him that she had originally joined only for the prestige that came with membership?

"So you see, everything I have learned about you has only given me more reason to desire this meeting between us."

"I knew my mother had written, but I didn't realize…" Blair slowly shook her head. "I feel at such a loss. I know so little about you?"

Louis shyly ducked his head. "We can easily remedy that. That is what today is about, isn't it?"

Blair modestly lowered her eyelashes. "Yes."

"I will tell you about myself, then. I am twenty-five and graduated from Oxford. My whole life I have been groomed for my role as the future leader of my country—"

"Those are just the bare facts, Louis," Blair interrupted with a chuckle. She noticed right away that while his name on her tongue was foreign, it wasn't unpleasant. "There has to be more to you than that."

"I do have a passion very dear to my heart." His hand moved nervously towards the inside breast pocket of his gray suit coat. "I have something I would like to show you. I hope you won't think this is too forward."

Blair's curiosity was completely piqued. She wasn't sure what to expect. What did gentleman carry around in their breast pockets?

As he pulled a small Moroccan leather case out of his pocket, she leaned forward eagerly in her chair. It appeared to be a small book or folio of some kind, and it had a gold engraved clasp. He flicked the catch with his nail and Blair held her breath as he slowly opened it to reveal a painting.

"That's me," she whispered. To her shock, it really was her. A Blair Waldorf she had never seen before. Well, she had in a way. She remembered posing for the photograph. She had stood very still by a vase of roses for what seemed like hours as the image had been imprinted. Somehow Louis had gotten the photograph and he had had someone paint a copy of it. Only this was like no portrait she had ever seen. It almost appeared out of focus with very visible brushstrokes. The artist had played with light in the painting, causing the warm golden tones to caress her ivory flesh and bring out the honey highlights in her hair. The woman in the portrait stood with her head slightly bowed, a demure smile on her face, and she was so lovely, Blair couldn't believe it was she.

"Yes," Louis murmured. "Your mother sent the photograph and I had my favorite artist paint me a copy. I hope that it was not too forward of me."

"This painting, it's magnificent. I have never seen anything like it before."

"It is painted by Edouard Manet. He is part of a new artistic movement in France. I had the pleasure of attending one of his salons when I was visiting a few months ago. When I presented him with your photograph, he was amazed by your beauty and most interested in my commission to reproduce you into his medium."

Blair was sure he had been, but it had little to do with her beauty. A commission from a wealthy Prince was something no starting artist could afford to turn their nose up to. "You have seen Edouard Manet's other work? Is it all like this? So striking?"

"Yes. It is like nothing I have ever seen before." Louis began to close the leather folio and Blair took one last look lingering look at the painting, wishing to remember it always. "If you are interested, he has two paintings being displayed at the National Gallery this season. Maybe you would let me take you to see them?"

At the offer, he tensed, and she could tell he was preparing for her to refuse. But how could she when he was so kind and nice? "I would love to go with you."

He smiled, his eyes lighting up with joy. "I had hoped you would allow me to escort you, with your mother in attendance, of course. Yet there is still one more thing that I would ask of you."

"What?"

Louis placed the picture back in his pocket and busied himself with straightening his suit coat for a minute before speaking. "I have been most open and honest with you, and I believe you have too, so I want to lay my cards down on the table so to speak. I did come here from Monaco in search of an English alliance and while you were initially chosen for me for this purpose, it is important that you know that it is of my own free will I am now choosing to pursue you. You are my choice. Because of that, I want to know that I have a chance and that you will receive my offer of courtship in good faith.

She began to speak, but he held up his hand to silence her.

"I ask that you let me finish. If I don't have a chance with you, I want to know that now before I invest too much of myself. I think it is not unreasonable for me to ask?"

"No, it is not unreasonable," Blair conceded.

"So Blair, do I have a chance? There is no one else that engages your heart?"

She thought then of Chuck. How he made her laugh and smile, how his kisses set her heart afire, making her yearn for something she knew could never be. Men like Chuck Bass, however, did not offer their hearts to women like her. He had created an entire lifestyle built around experiencing every sin of the flesh there was, and she would not be so foolish as to think the few kisses they had shared in any way meant anything to him. She knew that for now her innocence and respectability amused him, but in time it would grow old and he would look for amusement elsewhere. She needed to find him a bride and remove him from her life as quickly as she could before her heart really was engaged. As Louis shifted anxiously in his seat, she realized she had yet to give him an answer. Did she really need to think about it? Louis was everything she could have wished for and more in a prospective suitor.

Blair looked up at him, to find his eyes already on her. "There is no one else, Louis," she replied, completely ignoring the sinking sensation in her chest, the feeling that she had just committed a horrible betrayal.

"You will give me a chance, then? Allow me to court you?"

Louis sat very still in his chair as if he was holding his breath, and Blair realized she stood at a precipice. Everything hinged on her answer. Could Louis be the one to give her a fairytale ending? She deserved the chance to find out.

"Yes, Louis."

"Yes?" He clapped his hands together, a huge grin on his face. "You will not regret this. Tomorrow, I have an assembly I must attend at the French embassy. Will you be my guest?"

Blair had never been to an event at any of the embassies. The guest lists for such events were usually reserved only for diplomats, politicians and royalty. To be asked to go as Louis's guest could only serve as a feather in her cap.

At her silence, Louis drew his eyebrows together in worry. "I realize such a thing might not be to your taste, but such events are a necessary duty for a Prince. I must represent my country and, believe it or not, many a diplomatic decision are made over a glass of cognac. I would expect my wife, as the future queen of Monaco, to attend all such events as this. If this is something you feel you could not do, then it is best you tell me now."

"I think you misunderstand me," Blair rushed to reassure him. "I would love to go as your guest and I completely understand the importance of having your country represented and, of course, attending is something your wife should be honored to do. Out of curiosity, what other duties are expected of a princess of Monaco?"

"Well, attending such events as this are a priority, as is being a role model of respectability for my country. But most important of all would be her duty to me, her husband."

"What would those duties be? Looking pretty and delivering compliments on how wonderful you are?" Blair teased.

She expected Louis to laugh, but instead he regarded her quite seriously. "I would most certainly expect my wife to be beautiful. She is, after all, an extension of myself and a beautiful ornament that represents me at all times. As for delivering compliments, isn't it a wife's goal to make sure her husband feels good about himself?"

"True, I suppose." The thought rather depressed her; although she realized that was the role most women had been raised for. In fact, she had no doubt the ladies in her social circle would agree with Louis completely. "But what about politics? Would your wife be of help there? Could she help develop positive relationships with other countries?"

Louis's jaw dropped. "Of course not. Such work is best left for gentleman. Gently reared ladies such as yourself should not dirty themselves with the ugliness of politics. The stories of betrayal, blackmail and bribery would ruin your delicate sensibilities. "

Blair rather sadly thought that all sounded quite interesting.

"No," Louis shook his head. "The Princess of Monaco's main job is to keep her husband happy, while at the same serving as a symbol of grace for all of Monaco to worship. "

"I see," Blair said with a slight frown. While the idea of being a princess appealed to her vanity, fulfilling her girlhood dreams, the reality seemed to be that the role would be entirely limited to pleasing the Prince. She would truly be a pretty ornament for him, something lovely to look, without any true purpose.

"If you are worried about fulfilling the role of Princess should we chose to wed, I can have tutors brought in to help you further understand your role and teach you the necessary protocol," Louis offered.

Blair bristled at the suggestion. "That wouldn't be necessary. I understand completely what is expected."

At the change in her composure, Louis anxiously played with the rose in his buttonhole again. "Does this change your mind about my courtship?"

Looking into his face, she was touched by how much the idea seemed to bother him. She had never before known anyone to care so much about courting her. He had come all the way from Monaco, had her picture painted and was practically begging her to give him a chance. It was like something out of a fairytale. Maybe his ideas for the role of his wife and for a Princess didn't exactly suit her, but that was no reason to give up yet. She was Blair Waldorf and could charm anyone into changing their views.

"No," she replied resolutely, "I would love for a chance for us to get to know each other better."

Louis grinned with delight. "I promise you won't regret it."

Blair wondered uncomfortably then why she felt like she already did.

At the sound of the front door slamming, Louis and Blair rose to their feet

"B!" Serena called out. "I had the most wonderful time. How was the Prince? Was he everything you dreamed?"

"Forgive me, Louis," Blair said, her cheeks hot. At the sound of Vanya's muffled voice coming from the other room, she realized thankfully that he must have warned Serena that the Prince was still here.

"You dreamed of me?" Louis asked, his eyes wide.

Blair ignored him. "That is my good friend Lady Serena van der Woodsen you heard outside." Serena popped her head in the drawing room, her skirts swishing around her waist, and Blair shot her a dirty look. "She has the most uncouth manners."

"Sorry, Blair. I thought since the door was open your company had left."

Blair motioned for Serena to enter the room. Now that she was here, it would be considered very bad manners not to introduce her.

"Serena, this His Highness Prince Grimaldi." As Serena dipped into a graceful curtsy, Blair watched Louis. She wondered if, like most gentlemen, he would be awestruck by her golden beauty and vivacious manner.

When Louis bowed to Serena, Blair noticed with a tingle of pleasure that he immediately turned his attention back to her. Even though it was petty, this little gesture did much to raise Louis in her esteem. The three of them stood awkwardly for a moment, before Louis cleared his throat.

"As much as I have enjoyed this afternoon, I have probably overstayed my welcome."

Serena's forehead wrinkled with worry. "Oh dear, I hope I haven't ruined anything?"

"Not at all, Lady Serena," Louis replied politely. "It has been a true pleasure, Blair." "I will have an invitation for tomorrow's assembly sent over with the hartshorn."

At Louis's use of her Christian name, Serena's eyebrows rose to the ceiling.

"Thank you."

With another bow and a last lingering look at Blair, Louis strode from the room.

"Blair? The Prince of Monaco calls you Blair already? And the way he looked at you when he left." Serena shook with laughter. "I can't believe you have him wrapped around your finger already. That must be a record."

"It isn't like that."

"Really? Because it certainly seems like that to me." Serena wagged a finger at Blair. "I am guessing you must not have told His Highness about your other suitor, the Duke. Just wait until the two of them find out who their competition is. A royal prince versus a reformed Lord. I wonder which one will win?"

"There is no competition," Blair argued, shooting Serena an icy glare.

Serena giggled. "This is going to be fun. "

As Blair grabbed one of the embroidered throw pillows of the settee to throw at Serena, her friend shrieked and ran out of the room.

Blair stood in front of the mirror at Madame Tillsbury's Milliners in Bond Street, trying on a light pink bonnet trimmed with several red roses. The effect was rather striking next to her dark hair, but she was unsure if maybe it was a bit garish. She would have asked Serena, but her friend had headed straight to the dressmakers for a final fitting of one of her ball gowns as soon as the carriage dropped them off. Not wishing to be bored to death, Blair had left Dorota and Serena to run and look at hats. As usual, she was a little overwhelmed by the choices. The store was filled, floor to ceiling, with silk lined shelves of hats in all shapes and colors. As several shop girls hovered, eager for her to make a purchase, Blair turned her head to admire the hat from a different angle.

"It doesn't do your beauty justice," purred a voice near her.

Startled, Blair whirled around to find Chuck standing behind her. "How did you know I was here?"

"I saw you enter from my carriage."

"I see." Blair turned around once more to face the mirror. "What did you want?"

Chuck ran his gloved finger nonchalantly along one of the shelves. "Why do you think I want something?"

"A gentleman does not enter a ladies hat shop unless he wants something."

"Well, as you keep reminding me, I am no gentleman," Chuck teased.

"That's for sure," Blair retorted. "However, since we are attempting to at least give the impression you are, it is probably best that you leave."

"You should get this one." Chuck offered Blair a hunter green velvet bonnet trimmed with a darker ribbon. "It brings out the green in your eyes."

The hat was gorgeous and unique in its simplicity, and Blair couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before.

"I think you must be blind where my looks are concerned. My eye aren't in the least bit green," Blair replied dryly.

"I beg to differ." Chuck lowered his voice to a throaty growl. "And I notice everything about you."

Blair's mouth went dry.

"Try the hat on."

Blair slowly removed the pink hat, resting it back on the silk lined shelf. Taking the green bonnet from Chuck, she placed it on her head and tied the emerald satin ribbon into a jaunty bow under her chin.

Chuck stepped up behind her, his legs brushing the back of her bell-like skirts and she didn't dare move, barely managing to breathe at finding him so close to her. As his hands spanned her waist, she felt she might faint at the scorching touch that managed to burn her skin even though a corset and taffeta gown separated them.

"See, Blair. This hat was made for you. It makes your eyes look almost green, highlights your creamy ivory skin and when you blush, the contrast in color makes me want to do wicked things to you," he added as her cheeks flushed hotly.

"There will be no wicked doings," Blair said sternly, trying to move away only to finder herself practically trapped against the carved mahogany table that stood under the gilt mirror.

"Later then?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Never!" She exclaimed, spinning around only to find her mouth mere inches from his. "You are going to cause a scene, Chuck."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't see the problem."

"If you ever want to find a wife, you can't behave this way and certainly not with me. Now, if you don't move away this instant, I will refuse to help you any longer." She hated how shrill her voice had become; makingit even more obvious how much he affected her.

Letting go of her waist, he raised his hands in mock surrender and moved away.

Catching her breath, Blair reluctantly returned the green hat to the shelf. She could never purchase it now. It reminded her too much of him and that was the last thing she needed.

"You aren't going to buy it?" Chuck sounded like a little boy that had just had his favorite treat snatched away.

"No," she answered shortly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to join Serena at the dressmakers."

"Let me walk you there?"

Blair considered the offer. She probably should refuse him as she had no chaperone present, but she was eager to speak to him. Besides if anyone mentioned the impropriety of being alone with him, she would point out the fact that they were under the observation of everyone shopping and milling about Bond Street. It was going to be impossible to walk the short distance from the milliners to the dressmakers without passing and being scrutinized by dozens of members of society.

"I suppose that would be acceptable," she granted cordially.

Picking up the hat she had worn in from the small table in front of her, she placed it on her head, tying the bow under her chin. The straw bonnet was decorated with a spray of red cherries and matched her scarlet striped gown perfectly. Studying herself in the mirror before turning around she was struck by the high color in her cheeks and the almost starry look in her eyes. Forcing her lips into a frown, she sought to erase the evidence of how much she was enjoying this impromptu meeting between them. Catching sight of Chuck from behind her, she watched him pick up the green hat she had just discarded and gesture to one of the shop girls.

"Are you purchasing that hat?" Even though she didn't dare buy it, the thought that he might be buying it for one of his harlots made her seethe. As the shop girl took the hat to the back of the store to be wrapped and boxed, she felt cheated. That hat should have been hers.

"I am."

Spinning around, she gave him her most disgusted look. "I can't believe you have the audacity to buy that for one of your hussies right in front of me. You are revolting."

A slow grin spread across Chuck's face. "Does it really bother you that much?"

Blair opened and closed her mouth. To admit the truth, would show to him that she actually cared who he bought gifts for. "Absolutely not. It just goes to prove how impossible the task of making you presentable is. One doesn't ever buy gifts for their mistress in the presence of a lady, " she replied through gritted teeth.

Chuck regarded her, and the mocking look in his eyes annoyed her to such an extent she wanted to hurl a hat at him.

The pretty, blonde shop girl chose that moment to return with the shops trademark gold and black patterned hatbox in her hand. With a flourish she presented it to Chuck. "Shall I add that to your account, Your Grace?"

"Please."

"I suppose you have accounts with every store that caters to females in town," Blair said bitterly. She could just imagine with all the women constantly coming and leaving his bedchambers, he would need incentives and inducements to keep them happy. "I suppose it is necessary to keep your harem well rewarded."

"In this case, it will benefit both of us." A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he handed her the hatbox. "For you, Blair."

"I can't possibly accept this," she snapped, barely able to control her desire to grab the hatbox from him.

"No? That is a pity. Well, I guess I will have to find some less fortunate to accept it then. I have no doubt one of the city's beggars will eagerly wear it."

Blair curled her fingers into fists. "You would give my hat away to some strange poor person?"

"I am afraid I am forced with no choice since the lady it was bought for refuses to accept it," he teased.

"Fine," Blair rudely thrust her hand out, grabbing for the hatbox. "I accept."

"Somehow I knew you would," Chuck replied sweetly.

Making a disgusted sound, Blair allowed Chuck to take her arm and lead her towards the door. Once out on the street, Blair took a deep breath before addressing the thought that had been on her mind ever since Serena had brought up Carter the other night. "I have a favor to ask of you,"

Chuck looked down at her with surprise. "Of course. Anything."

"I need a meeting with Sir Baizen."

Something that looked very akin to anger flashed in his eyes and Blair noticed that his whole body had tightened like a coiled spring. "May I ask why you have this sudden urge to speak with the gentleman?"

"Not that it is any of your business, but I am afraid he has designs on Lady Serena."

He seemed to relax at her revelation and the look of relief on his face made Blair suspicious. Did he really think she was interested in Carter? The whole idea was ludicrous; she was insulted he would even contemplate such a thing.

"How diabolical," Chuck teased. "Shall we lock her up in a tower to keep him away?"

Blair gave him a cross look. "Even you must admit that he has a terrible reputation. For some reason, Lady Serena is able to overlook this, but I can't."

Chuck became grave. "Must you always hold a gentleman's reputation against him? Doesn't Sir Baizen deserve a chance to reform and show himself worthy of your friend?"

"If that is his intention, then he needs to prove it to me. I will not allow him to hurt someone who is closer to me than a sister."

"I suppose a meeting can be arranged," Chuck conceded. "On one condition."

Slowing her step, Blair looked up at him suspiciously. "What condition?"

"I am present."

"No. This is between Sir Bazien and I, and no affair of yours," Blair said firmly.

"That is where you are wrong. If I am going to arrange this meeting, I need to be present. It is the only gentlemanly thing to do considering that the man you are meeting with has such a terrible reputation," Chuck replied silkily.

Blair exhaled with annoyance at the way he threw her words back at her. "Fine, but the meeting needs to be at a public gathering, in a way that is not overly noticeable."

"I think I can arrange that. What function is next on your social calendar? It would be helpful to know so I can procure an invitation this time." His lips quirked with amusement.

"That may prove impossible." Blair looked down at her hatbox swinging on her arm. "Prince Grimaldi has invited me to a gathering tomorrow at the French Embassy."

Chuck stopped in his tracks. "I see," he replied grimly. "And when did you meet Prince Grimaldi?"

"We had tea today."

"Did he mention that his country is desperate for an alliance with England? That you are merely a means to an end?"

"It isn't like that," Blair said defensively. "Well… It may have started like that, but Prince Grimaldi is choosing to court me of his own free will."

Letting go of her arm, Chuck reached into the breast pocket of his coat. "Just because he is a prince doesn't mean he will give you what you need," he said coldly.

Blair was reminded then of Louis's views on matrimony and what he wished in a wife. To have her goal in life be solely to please a husband made her feel as if she was slowly suffocating. What had happened to her? Before Chuck that was all she had thought she wanted.

"When you marry do you see your wife as a possession? A pretty bauble existing only to please and compliment your life?" she asked bluntly.

Chuck stilled as he pulled a small silver case out of his breast pocket. "No. While I enjoy being surround by beautiful things and would like an attractive wife, I would not wish a relationship like that. A woman with no substance, no spirit, would be unbearably dull and I think I would grow bored enough that I would hurl this pretty bauble against the wall to see if it would break."

Laughter escaped Blair's lips at the thought.

"At my parties, I see men and women all the time wishing to escape the confines of the marriages they are trapped in. Condemned by a marriage made to further familial connections or wealth, they have been doomed to a lifetime of misery and boredom. For a marriage to be successful, there must be more substance between them than just superficial beauty and duty."

"So would you then wish your bride to be your equal?" Blair asked with disbelief.

"Yes, I think so. I want more from her than just to, as you said, ornament my life. I want to be able to share all of myself and have her do the same. For example, my business ventures give me great pleasure and, as unladylike as it is, that is something I would like her to take an interest in. I don't wish a meek, mild bride without a thought of her own in her head."

Holding the cord of her hatbox tightly in one hand, Blair realized jealously that the wife of Charles Bass would be a lucky woman. The problem was going to be finding a woman of such substance without absolutely hating her. "You have given me quite the challenge," she said as lightly as she could.

He smiled slightly and opened the silver case he had removed from his pocket. With a sidelong glance at her he withdrew a slim cheroot. Sliding it into his mouth, he removed a matchbox from his pocket and proceeded to light his cigar.

"Chuck!" Blair ripped the cigar from his mouth, stomping on it with her leather boot. "One never smokes in gentle company. What were you thinking?

"It seems what I need most is a wife who can teach me these things and make me fit for polite society," Chuck said playfully.

"You don't need a wife, you need a full time tutor." Blair couldn't believe Chuck's audacity. It seemed with every day her task to reform him grew even larger. He really shouldn't be allowed to leave her company at all and she realized, with dismay, how much satisfaction that thought gave her. As Chuck placed his silver cigar case back in his breast pocket, she was reminded of Louis and the portrait of her he kept. It only served to highlight the differences between the two men and she became further resolved to find Chuck a wife as soon as possible.

"I think the perfect place to find you a bride is the Girls Incorporated Charity Dinner. It takes place the night after next, and I will personally see that you receive an invitation," Blair said airily.

"Charity is not generally to my taste," Chuck replied, offering her his arm.

She accepted and they continued their walk towards the dressmakers. "I know, but think of the impression you will make on all of society when you attend. It will show that you are serious about turning over a new leaf and, if you can make a large donation to Girls Incorporated, they will have no choice but to show their gratitude."

"And how will you show your gratitude?"

Blair ignored the way his voice deepened, the way it curled seductively around her toes. She knew exactly what he meant by gratitude and she wasn't going to give in and let him play with her. "By finding you a bride. The whole reason I am spending time with you," she answered tartly.

To her surprise, he had no comeback for her. As they came to a halt in front of the dress shop, Chuck let go of her arm.

"You will come to the dinner then?" When he didn't answer, she continued, "I have been planning it for months and I can guarantee that the food and wine will be top notch."

"I can get the finest in delicacies and drink at home."

Suddenly it was very important to her that he be there. The event was a culmination of all her hard work and she wanted a chance to show of her talents to him. Show him that she was so much more than just a pretty ornament, "Please…Chuck." The way she said his name, how it rolled deliciously of her tongue, gave her pause and she couldn't but compare it to the strangeness she had felt when she said Louis's name. Surely, she figured that had to be because of the length of time she had known the two men.

"In that case, I have no choice. " Chuck smiled down at her, his whole face alight at her plea. "Yes, I will be there, banknotes in hand."

"Thank you." Blair reached for the shop door's handle. "I will have an invitation sent over today."

Chuck bowed and she noticed he waited until she was safely inside the shop before finally walking away.

* * *

This was written a long time ago, when a Louis/Blair engagement was only a speculation. This means my version of him and their relationship is going to vary a bit from the show. At this moment I am not sure what the status is of this story. I have several scenes written and the outline is completed, but I don't want to promise anything other then I will try to work on it. I now write mostly for the Vampire Diaries fandom so it is a bit hard to switch between the two. Although, if Katie has her way I will be spending a lot more time working on this story in the future. :P

For those of you wondering about the last chapter of Violets At Her Feet you can find the link in my profile.


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